


Segregation

by BlueAlmond



Category: 1789: Les Amants de la Bastille - Various Composers/Attia & Chouquet, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Attempt at Humor, Children, Discrimination, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Law Enforcement, M/M, Mutant Society, Parenthood, Superpowers, and other bad shit, mention of sexual abuse, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-11-27 05:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 72,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18190508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueAlmond/pseuds/BlueAlmond
Summary: Everybody knows that parenting is complicated, but in a world shaped to control those with special abilities it gets only tougher. The ‘Skilled’ gene is a recessive one, which means that two Skilled parents could have an Ungifted child, and two Ungifted parents could have a Skilled child. It can happen. It just never really does. So when William Van Ness finds himself in that situation, he will look for help everywhere. Thank God there are Skilled parents in his kid’s class, like the Hamilton’s and the Jefferson’s…Right?Or, a story about mutants being lawyers and trying their best at parenting in a very shitty world.





	1. The detective with the blue bracelet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Van Ness, they’re a mess. Thank God their friend Hercules thinks of talking to the new detective, Gilbert de Lafayette.

Sounds, like any other sensatory phenomenon, can hold the attribute of ugliness. That ugliness can either derive by the way the human ear perceives it, or because of the connotation the human mind assigns to it. For example, sirens may be loud and annoying, and yet the breaking point might not be the sound in itself but what it means that a siren might be roaring—be it from an ambulance, a police car, a firetruck, or some sort of alarm, sirens are usually an indicator of danger or tragedy. Then again, some sounds may be associated to something ugly, and not be ugly at all. And the same goes for words. Words can sound ugly too, and yet not posses an ugly connotation, and vice versa. There are many words out there that one immediately catalogues as ugly even when they can roll off one’s tongue with ease.

Like segregation.

The definition of segregation that usually jumps to people’s minds the moment it is mentioned, the one that right away brings out that almost instinctive rejection of it, is the following: “ _the separation or isolation of a race, class, or ethnic group by enforced or voluntary residence in a restricted area, by barriers to social intercourse, by separate educational facilities, or by other discriminatory means_ ”.  It is often considered a symptom of either a repressive government and or a very sick society, scarred by war, be it internal or external, and most people in first world countries in the twenty-first century are convinced that it is a reality left behind a long time ago.

Most Ungifted people, that is.

Because, if one takes a look at another definition for the word, one like: “ _the separation for special treatment or observation of individuals or items from a larger group_ ”, then it stops sounding so horrifying and it starts feeling a lot more familiar. For the Skilled population, at least. The Ungifted still defend the measurements taken, more than fiercely.

It is true that for many years, society didn’t even acknowledge the Skilled as a functional part of it. They were considered freaks. Anomalies. It wasn’t until the eighteenth century that the scientific community started to pay attention to what they hadn’t realized before was such a large group. And they realized they weren’t defective, but were in fact, an entire other class of people. People with a very special gene in common. Later it would become a known fact that if a child was able to freeze the water, then it was because there was a special trait in his DNA that could also be found in another child whose only special skill was that their toes were unusually large. It would be ridiculous to group together people so different, but how could they not? How could they not, when that gene alone is the one trait to identify people that could mean a real danger for the world? It was only logical some governments would take action, just to keep a record, simply as a preventive act. The thing the US and most other developed countries did was nothing more than that. It couldn’t be considered _segregation_. Testing for the gene was even illegal on children unless there was a very compelling reason. How could anyone think there was any sort of persecution against them? All the state was doing was making sure no citizen had more chances to hurt people. That’s all they did, by making sure the world knew what they were dealing with when in presence of a Skilled. Why would anyone oppose the bracelets, unless they wanted to take advantage of the anonymity a naked wrist would provide them?

For the Ungifted, the bracelets seemed completely harmless, and they didn’t even notice them that often anyway. Edward Van Ness didn’t think he had ever noticed a random person on the street wearing one. He knew no one in his family carried them either. Edward Van Ness came from a normal family. He had two ungifted parents, an Ungifted little sister, and he had the same worries than any other Ungifted seven-year-old had. He was normal.

Until he fell of his bed one night, through the mattress, waking up confused and scared, breaking into tears.

His parents weren’t surprised when they were called to principal Benjamin Franklin’s office later that week, before their appointment at the Center of Registration.

“Thank you for coming,” said the principal, looking apologetic. “I imagine you already know why I called you here.”

“Yes… but we don’t know what to do,” mumbled the father, a low-level alpha, William. “We’re going to take him to the Center of Registration this weekend, and hopefully they’ll help us a little, give us some advice, but…”

The principal bit his bottom lip, considering all the options. The problem was, he wasn’t well-trained on the issue either. “How about,” he licked his lips, “how about we ask other Skilled parents?”

“Edward told us he’s the only Skilled in his class,” replied the mother, a mid-level beta, Anne.

Benjamin nodded. “I know, but there are Skilled parents, adults who are Skilled, even if their children aren’t. They might have a better idea of how to deal with this.”

William seemed to find it a good idea. “That could work, yes.” His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he checked it as subtly as he could, which was kind of pointless at the end. “I’m sorry,” he grimaced, “I have to get to work.”

Anne sighed and patted him on the knee. “That’s okay.”

He disagreed, but he had no choice. They needed him to inspect a bloody crowbar, an element that had been missing for most part of the investigation and only now had been found, with little to no time to get the needed information before the trial was done and the jury made up their minds. Sure, he wasn’t the only medical examiner in New York City, but he’d been working on the case since the beginning and his shift started in twenty minutes anyway. Besides, the detective working the case had texted him to his cellphone, clearly ignorant of his schedule, so he couldn’t blame him. He was only lucky the school wasn’t that far from his workplace. A side effect of that was that he didn’t have enough time to take his mind out of the talk with the principal. Then again, the amount of time that would take was unclear. Once he was done confirming the suspect as the perpetrator, he sighed heavily.

Detective Mulligan, who could be considered a good friend of his by now, frowned with concern. He had texted the ADA on the case about the results and had been told that he had more than enough time to make it to the courthouse with the M.E.’s report. He had a few minutes to ask William what was up. “What is it, Will?”

“It’s Eddie, he…” he took a deep breath, “he’s a Skilled. And we have no idea how to handle it. The people at the school don’t know either. But they’re going to contact some of the Skilled parents and see if they can give us some advice.”

Hercules grimaced. “That sounds shitty. I’m sorry guys. But hey, what can he do?”

“He can go through walls. Falls through the bed every night for the last week.”

“Damn…”

William nodded.

Hercules pursed his lips and stole another glance at the screen with the blood analysis from the murder weapon. “Hey, there’s a new detective in the squad, nice guy, he’s a Skilled too. Do you want me to talk to him? Maybe we could all eat together or something.”

“I’d appreciate that, yes.”

Hercules immediately saw the relief in the doctor’s face, and was glad they had that conversation.

Gilbert de Lafayette had just been transferred from another precinct, and he wore a blue bracelet. As a police officer, Hercules was familiar with the Scale of Danger, and knew exactly what that meant, but it was difficult to conciliate the idea of that distant classification and the nice guy he had met. The color blue, second to last on the seven-degree scale, stood to warn others that in a situation of extreme emotional distress, the people in a 15 ft ratio were in high risk of being fatally injured by the subject’s skill. Hercules didn’t want to imagine what that skill was, if it could be so deadly. It was considered rude to ask, anyway, so he hadn’t. They’d only known each other for a week. Which also meant that simply asking the guy to talk to strangers about, well, anything, was kind of weird, but he wasn’t one to back away after making an offer like that. Still, he was considerate enough to stress over the right time to do so—as if there could be any—and pondered his words rather carefully, practicing on his head, fully aware that he probably would forget all about it the minute he was actually talking to the guy face to face about it.

Still, he had made up his mind, and he saw his chance when they got a call and the captain sent him and the new guy on it. He was almost happy about it. Almost. He couldn’t say he _liked_ his job. He liked what his actions meant; a step forward towards justice and peace for the most vulnerable victims, usually of sexual assault. But being needed somewhere meant that there was a new victim, another person scarred for life just because of someone else’s wickedness. Still, it meant an opening to talk to the guy, while they were stuck in traffic.

“You’re the first blue bracelet I’ve ever met,” commented Hercules, eyes fixed on the traffic light. It might have been cowardly, but it was by far the best scenario he could’ve hoped for.

“Really?”

Hercules hummed. “That surprises you?”

“Yeah. Well, sort of. I could say I don’t know that many Ungifted, but you guys are everywhere.” The fact that he wasn’t close to any of them went unsaid.

“That’s not the same though.” And statistics were on his side. Blue bracelets, just like Green or Black, were not as common as the other ones. Those three colors only conformed about twenty percent of the Skilled population in the US.

Lafayette shrugged. “It feels the same. I don’t want to say that I don’t see color or some shit like that, but anything darker than orange feels like family most of the time.”

“Is everyone in your family Skilled?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s just my parents and I, but my grandparents were as well. It runs in the family, literally, you know?”

“Yeah, but it’s a recessive gene, right? I mean, two Skilled could give birth to an Ungifted…”

“And two Ungifted could give birth to a Skilled, yeah, but that’s only in theory. It never happens.”

“It happened to a friend of mine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Willie Van Ness? The M.E.? His son is a Skilled, and they’re freaking out, man. They have no idea how to handle it.”

“Shit, that’s got to be complicated. How old is the kid?”

“He’s seven, I think.”

“Shit… did they register him already?”

Hercules had no idea, but wasn’t that the first thing one had to do in those circumstances? He nodded. “I think so, why?”

Lafayette was wearing a grimace, but he waved a hand to dismiss it. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. We’re almost there anyway. What do we know about the victim?”

“Not much…” Just that she was in the hospital and the rape kit came out positive. As an SVU detective, Hercules heard those words often. More than often. But it never stopped turning his stomach.

The victim was wearing a green bracelet, and for a moment, Hercules considered letting his partner do the talking, but he was the senior detective there, and the woman lying on the hospital bed was no different than any other victim.

“Hello, Miss Lewis, right? I’m detective Mulligan, this is my partner detective Lafayette. Can you remember what happened?”

The girl was pretty shaken up, and almost everything in her behavior indicated that she knew who attacked her, even though she claimed that she couldn’t remember. It was frustrating, but it was too soon to insist. They were two alphas, after all, and she needed to start feeling like she was in control again. It would take time. But hopefully, with a colder head, she would give them a name on a future encounter. Still, while that didn’t happen, they just would have to put a little more effort on their job. They went canvassing, looking for witnesses and went through what little the victim had given them. They had fluids from the rape-kit. They just needed a good suspect. Although after the first day looking, said good suspect was nowhere to be found. The victim was a nice girl, single, and loved by everyone around her, but if she wasn’t giving the name of her attacker it probably was because they were someone close to her, someone she at least knew.

“Well, today was fruitless,” said Lafayette once they were back at the precinct without a single lead.

“Yeah…” sighed Hercules, sitting down heavily at his desk across from his partner’s. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

“What?”

“Remember I told you about Van Ness? Well, he was wondering if you would like to have dinner at his place, maybe clear some of their doubts. I’d go with you too, of course.”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, “alright,” he smiled nervously. “Why not? What time should I be there?”

Gilbert liked the way his partner handled the situation, mostly because he treated the omega on the bed just like that: an omega in distress, a victim of sexual assault, and not just a Green Bracelet. He knew, from personal experience and by other close friends, that not any Ungifted would’ve done that, because what mattered the most about a Skilled was the color in their wrist, not the scent on their neck.

But in the week he had known his partner he had started to believe that maybe they were being prejudiced as well; that maybe there were Ungifted out there being nice, and they weren’t just exception of a cruel norm. But it was too early to tell. In twenty-nine years, Gilbert hadn’t met many others who could make him consider such a world.

Still, he didn’t know what to expect of detective Mulligan’s _friends_. He was a little worried, because he knew he had started to idolize the man in his head, and if his friends were not as… tolerant, as he seemed to be, then he knew he would be unreasonably heartbroken, and it would be no one’s responsibility but his. Then again, he could get away with hating on his partner a little bit for befriending people he shouldn’t befriend, but that wouldn’t be enough to request another partner.

Besides, he was only speculating. Maybe they wouldn’t be assholes. He had seen the M.E. a few times and his eyes had only moved to the bracelet for a second, never interrupting the flow of words regarding the case.  At least he knew how to be professional, and if he was having him, a high-level alpha with a blue bracelet, for dinner at his home, then he had an idea of how to be a good parent as well, because he was _trying_.

That thought led him to a living room in Queens a couple of hours later, sitting awkwardly across from a pair of concerned parents that looked like they could use some good news.

“So, Hercules told me you just discovered your kid is a Skilled?”

Both Anne and William nodded.

“He’s only in second grade,” said he, “and there aren’t others registered Skilled in his class.”

“Nor the school,” added she. “The principal was just as clueless as us. He’s going to contact some Skilled parents, though.”

“If they have children your kid’s age, I’m sure they’ll want to help,” said Gilbert reasonably.

“But I don’t understand, if there are Skilled parents, how come there are no Skilled students?”

“Well,” Gilbert grimaced, “it’s an elementary school, right?” They nodded, and he licked his lips. “Then that makes sense. It’s not mandatory to register a Skilled child until they’re eleven. Besides, most skills do not manifest until they’re about, well, your son’s age, that’s more common. Seven or eight. I didn’t notice mine until I was nine.”

“So they’re not deliberately hiding it, then?”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean, some skills _can’t_ be hidden. And even those that can, can be difficult to do so for a child that still hasn’t learned to control it. I’m sorry.”

“Well, of course you don’t know. You don’t know them,” reasoned Anne. “Let’s go to the table. The food is ready. Will, go tell the kids.”

“Okay…”

Dinner started tense, but it quickly became something lighter thanks to Hercules and his many topics of conversation. It also helped that the couple and their two children were genuinely nice, if only a little nervous with his presence there. But the food was delicious, and everyone on the table loved cake, which made the evening even more enjoyable when it was time for dessert.

“Well, tonight has been lovely…”

“I feel like all I did was eat your food!” admitted Gilbert. “Is there anything in particular that’s been worrying you? I’d like to help.”

“I can’t think of anything right now,” said Van Ness, “but I assure you, if you give me your number, I will be texting you at inappropriate times with questions, constantly.”

Gilbert chuckled. “That’s okay. I’ll try to answer, but I’m a heavy sleeper.”

“Uh, I have a question,” mumbled Eddie.

“Shoot!”

“I’m going to get a bracelet, right? What color do you think it will be?”

“Well, that depends on what you can do, buddy.”

“I could show you.”

Gilbert decidedly ignored the way every Ungifted in the room tensed. “If your parents don’t mind, then go ahead.”

“Why would my parents mind?”

“Well, some skills aren’t exactly appropriate for the inside, you know?” he winked. “Like mine, before I could control it well. And even now, to be honest, if my mom finds me using it inside the house she grounds me with no dessert!”

“That’s not fair, now you have to show me!”

Gilbert hummed. “Alright. I promise I’ll show you, but it has to be outside, so how about you wait until we’re leaving? It’s probably going to be soon.”

Eddie nodded. “Fine. I can do this,” he stared at his hand for a moment, focusing, and then proceeded to pass half his arm through the dining table.

“Woah, I’ve never seen anything like this,” said Gilbert, eyes fixed on Edward’s arm. “This is really cool, kid.”

“What does that mean, that you haven’t seen it before? Were you expecting something else?” asked William.

“Well,” he scooted in his chair closer to the couple, “some skills are getting more and more common, you know? Some studies say that certain things, like, I don’t know, a common one could be night vision, right? People with feline-like pupils? Some think that that sort of trait could become as common and ingrained in human nature as certain skin colors or hair. But then again, those are the same studies that say one day all the population will be considered Skilled by today’s standards, and,” he shrugged, “I don’t see that happening any time soon.” Currently, they conformed hardly forty percent of the US population.

“I had no idea. I never stopped to think if two people could have the same skill. I thought they were… you know, unique?”

“That’s a myth,” he waved a hand. “But this is seriously cool. High five!” They tried to clasp hands together, but Eddie’s passed right through Gilbert’s.

“Sorry, I still don’t know how to turn it off.”

“That’s okay.”

“Now you got to show me yours!”

“Eddie…”

“No, I promised. Show me your backyard.” He didn’t mind showing off his skill. Really, the only ones that thought asking about it was rude were the Ungifted, who were usually uncomfortable with them, but for Skilled, especially kids, it was quite common to compare and play with them. Always inside the house or in a discreet backyard, of course, but it was fun, and it was part of growing. A Skilled needed to learn to control their abilities in order to blend in the world as unthreatening as possible, and that control could only come from practice. Besides, it was better to keep the boy distracted so he wouldn’t ask again what color his bracelet would be. He was pretty sure it would be red, which was one of the most common ones, but it was also the lightest one that included ‘murder’ on the warning.

“Okay, I’m going to make a small one, but keep in mind that I can make them really big, okay?”

Eddie nodded, curious and nervous.

Gilbert took a deep breath, snapped his fingers, and a lighting 10 inches long appeared right next to him.

Eddie gasped. “You can make lighting?”

Gilbert nodded. It was a little bit more complicated than that, but nobody needed to hear the details.

Out in the car, before Gilbert could get in, Hercules tapped him on the shoulder and said: “Thank you for doing this. It was really kind of you.”

Gilbert scratched the back of his head, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I did my best, but I’m not sure if I really did any good.”

“Trust me,” he grinned as he got into his car, “you did.”

Gilbert stared at that grin and his insides did a painful twist. He felt himself sliding down a dangerous, a very dangerous path, but he couldn’t care. He had always been an adrenaline junkie, and he could’ve sworn that very grin felt like a dopamine fix on his neck.  He could do anything for that grin, even lie. Maybe he had already. The palms of his hands tickled in a way that surely meant he had. He braced himself, knowing that grin would vanish, and hated his own integrity.

“I lied,” he confessed.

Hercules raised his head from where he’d been adjusting his seatbelt to face him, startled, effectively losing his bright smile. “What?”

“They wanted to know if the other parents might be deliberately hiding their children’s skills, right?”

“Yeah…”

“And I kind of implied that they weren’t. I mean, I said it wasn’t weird there were no other Skilled kids because of their age and stuff. Well, I lied. I mean, not entirely. Almost everything I said was true, except how I actually noticed my skill when I was about six. But I lied because… Hercules, to be honest, I think those parents probably are. Hiding it. Deliberately. But if anyone should explain William and Anne about it, it should be them. And I could be wrong.”

“But why do you think so?”

“Because that’s what we do!” He shrugged and threw his head back against the headrest. “Getting registered… sucks. Everyone delays it as much as we can, that’s why the thing is mandatory for everyone over eleven. And us, Skilled, we usually recognize a Skilled child when they’re babies. There are… signs, you know? But I didn’t think that was important. I mean, I really have met other Skilled who didn’t notice their skills until they were older, and neither did their parents.”

Hercules sighed, but in a moment those white teeth were back in sight. “Then I guess you didn’t do anything wrong, Gilbert.”

Gilbert felt like he had. He must have cheated somehow, to get such a reward. But he wouldn’t argue, because he liked his partner’s smile too much, and because who didn’t like to hear they were alright?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been kind of obsessed with this story lately, and it's almost the only thing I can write, so my plan is to update once a week and see if that'll help me pay some more attention to my neglected stories with a clear schedule for this thing, that has become my baby. This was almost like an introductory chapter, but you'll meet the rest of the characters soon enough--the order on the tags was not random--I promise! Anyway, I hope you liked it :) let me know what you thought!


	2. The things we tell our kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it’s time to meet some other parents. Thomas Jefferson has some fierce ideas, and it looks like Alexander Hamilton isn’t far behind.

Principal Franklin was a man who believed the Skilled were just as human, vulnerable and important as the Ungifted. He understood that the way the world currently treated them was unfair. He understood many things, and for that, he worked with children, hoping he was making the future a little better with each decision he made and each lesson he gave.

Still, he’d only met a few Skilled in his life, and never had a chance to be close with one. It was very rare to find them in the professions he mostly dealt with; only those with lighter bracelets were allowed to work with children, after all.

He’d known that there were Skilled parents, but he hadn’t been aware of how many were in the Van Ness boy’s class. He was pleasantly surprised when he went to check and discovered that out of twenty-two children, four possessed Skilled parents, and another one was from a mixed couple. They were a wide range of colors and professions that would probably allow a wider perspective to what they’d be dealing with, and he prepared everything for the get-together with optimism and enthusiasm. He always liked an opportunity to get to know better the parents of his students, and these parents in particular never had much of a presence in school. He didn’t blame them. He understood. And he hoped that maybe after that afternoon, they would find the confidence they needed to dare and participate a little more, maybe by connecting with the other parents, or maybe just getting out there and seeing they weren’t alone.

Because really, they _weren’t alone_. But as far as Benjamin could tell, the Skilled tended to isolate themselves, at least when it came to mixed communities, like it was the case with the school. He was eager to hear what they had to say about all that, if there was enough time. First, what mattered the most was to get advice on how to deal with little Eddie and his new abilities he still couldn’t control.

That Wednesday afternoon, he prepared a conference room with plenty of snacks, (non-alcoholic) beverages, some light music, and all the discretion a school after extracurriculars had to offer and waited for them to arrive. The first ones there were a Skilled couple, mid-level alpha and beta, wearing orange and red bracelets respectively. Benjamin searched in his head as hard as he could, but he had no memory of them, aside from the pictures he’d seen on his computer when he first started preparing the get-together. They excused themselves about that, said they were often busy and didn’t really participate on school things, but Benjamin knew better. He didn’t pressure it though. It wasn’t the right time for that, not yet. Then came three more Skilled couples that arrived at the same time and apparently knew each other, for they were talking with familiarity and joking, perfectly at ease, and then got all awkward when it came the time to greet him. And finally, moments after they had said their names, arrived the Van Ness. If Benjamin had thought the last three couples had been uncomfortable, well, he was out of words for the state the Ungifted were in then. Their discomfort was palpable, and honestly a little bit offensive. Benjamin felt offended, even when he knew he was not the cause of it. He tried to introduce everyone quickly and amicably, and Anne tried to start a conversation with a female low-level alpha that wore a yellow bracelet about her sweater. It wasn’t exactly lighthearted, but it was something.

William, on the other hand, retrieved by the table of snacks and stuffed his mouth with different cookies, as far as he could get from the other parents.

“Are you okay?” asked Benjamin quietly, standing by his side.

“I just never thought I’d see so many… you know.” One yellow, two oranges, one red, and three blacks. Also, a lilac one, which wasn’t part of the Scale of Danger, so William had no idea what it meant. It almost matched the light bite on the user’s neck, a bonded omega.

The mixed couple didn’t go. They excused themselves; said they had something to do, but Benjamin suspected that wasn’t the real reason they weren’t going.

“What?” asked one of the black bracelets who had just approached the table to grab a snack. “Dark bracelets in one room? Say it.”

William swallowed down the lump on his throat, but didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded.

“There are like, thirty _million,_ ” emphasized the Skilled, “of us in the country, man. New York City is known to have one of the largest concentrations, too. And we usually stick together. It’s not _that_ weird.”

“Sorry,” mumbled William hurriedly, feeling himself pale.

The guy eyed him for a moment longer and then sighed. “You don’t have to apologize…” he extended his right hand to him, the one with the bracelet. “I’m sorry. That was probably mean. I’m Alexander Hamilton, Philip’s dad?”

“Hello, it’s a pleasure.” It wasn’t, and the man’s amused expression told him he didn’t buy it either. “I have to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.” It was a poor excuse, but he needed to get away for a moment. He just needed a moment, a moment outside.

He’d always been shy. He wasn’t the most popular guy; meeting strangers was not his forte. He spent most of his day monologuing to corpses, and corpses never had bracelets. The Skilled had their own morgue; another doctor dealt with those bodies, and that was fine with William. He wasn’t a separatist, but bracelets made him a little nervous. It was just the sheer knowledge that some of them had been born equipped to kill and that, that scared him a little bit. People scared him in general, really, because he knew there were so many out there that enjoyed hurting others. He didn’t know the statistics, though. All the psychopaths he was familiar with were Ungifted. But wasn’t that a small miracle they all needed to be thankful for? There were Skilled out there that could manipulate the natural elements, or the mind, and that… that was rather scary.

But he was there to ask for advice. To ask them, those people that made him nervous, what could he do to make his son’s life easier, and they all had come for that when they had no obligation to do it. They were there to help him, and he owed them his gratitude. He owed them being able to pull his shit together and be in the same room as them without looking sick. It shouldn’t be so difficult. Not two days ago he’d had a man that could manipulate lightning sitting at his dining table, and he was a genuinely nice guy.

But that guy’s bracelet was only blue. He was about to enter a small conference room with snacks and juice and three black bracelets.

When he came back to the room, he took a moment to stare at it, a little overwhelmed with it all. He had thought he knew the other parents in Eddie’s class, but there were at least four faces he didn’t think he’d seen before, and it made him feel like there was a whole other part of the world that he didn’t understand, that he wasn’t a part of, and his son would be swallowed by it.

His dark thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a guy that crashed against him, for no apparent reason. It was the omega with the weird lilac bracelet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. I’m high,” excused himself the guy.

William frowned. “What?”

Another black bracelet, a tall alpha with even taller hair, stood next to them, passing an arm around the omega’s shoulders, but directing his attention to William. “You don’t know what a lilac bracelet means, do you?”

William shook his head.

“It means that he’s a mind-reader neutralized. Otherwise, his bracelet would be black, but he’s not allowed in educational establishments without a special permit, so he had to take a pill that effectively numbs a part of his brain.”

“I’m basically brain-damaged,” admitted the guy, before extending a hand. “James Madison. The rest of the time, I’m a psychiatrist. I’m smart, I swear.”

That meant there were four black bracelets in the room. Before that night, William had never even seen one. He gulped and weakly mumbled: “It’s a pleasure. I’m William.”

“You’re Edward’s father. Patsy says he can go through walls.”

“Patsy’s our daughter,” added the alpha, and then proceeded to extend his hand to William. “I’m Thomas Jefferson.”

William shook his hand a little firmer than the way he shook his husband’s, but he figured his grip was still quite similar to a noodle, and he was suddenly very embarrassed. He’d never been good at first impressions, but this afternoon ought to be some sort of record for how terrible these things could go. Selfishly, he appreciated the mind-reader couldn’t hear the chaos inside him, even when he was certain it was all more than obvious in his face. He was only able to breathe once again when his wife came to his rescue.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, holding his sweaty hand in her cold one. “We know this must be a weird request, but…” she shrugged, “the truth is that we’re pretty lost, and the internet for once didn’t help. Eddie’s a sweet boy, but he’s scared, and so are we, to be honest.”

“We can imagine, and that’s why we came,” said the last black bracelet, who was standing by Hamilton’s side. Holding his hand. He was probably his husband, now that William really paid attention. “Well,” he looked around, as if all of them had already decided what to tell them. Maybe they had. “For starters, our first advice is to not get him registered yet.”

“What?” Anne frowned. “But aren’t we supposed to do it right away?”

“It’s only mandatory since they’re eleven. That’s four years from now.”

“But I don’t understand,” insisted she. “Why shouldn’t we do it yet? What’s the problem?” Kids didn’t even get the _definitive_ bracelet. They used one made of paper that they could even take off. Clearly it would be in his best interest to get him registered.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“What is it, Mr. Jefferson?” asked principal Franklin.

“You think they’re going to give you some directive on how to proceed or how to help your kid, but they won’t. All they’re going to give you is a bracelet, and perhaps the information for a training camp.”

“There isn’t much information online about those. Should we enroll him in one?”

“God, _no_. Those camps are _the worst_.”

“I can only imagine what it must be to be in your position. But if you’re here, you at least hope we know things you don’t, that could help you make the right choices for your kid’s wellbeing. That’s what we want, that’s why we came. And maybe it doesn’t make any sense to you right now, but…”

“We’re eight people telling you that registering him is not going to do any good,” insisted Jefferson. “I think that means something. If you’re still not going to listen, that’s on you.”

“But we already made an appointment at the Register Center. Can we just cancel it?”

Hamilton grimaced and shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t recommend that.” He sighed. “Look… maybe this is good. Maybe this is for the best. It is possible that someone at the Register Center will want to help you, considering you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“And considering you’re one of them,” added Jefferson.

“Well, yes. That was supposed to be implied.”

“You’ve never been good at being subtle, Hamilton.”

“Thomas—”

“Look, we, as Skilled, don’t exactly have anything like… ‘safe spaces’, okay? If you want your kid to be safe, you don’t ask the government for it, you can only do it yourself.”

“I mean,” Anne pulled a skeptical face, “you do have shelters that are just for Skilled teenagers and omegas. It’s not like the government doesn’t care at all. You even have special hospitals.”

“Just like there are shelters for Ungifted!” replied Jefferson. “And the public hospitals for Skilled are a joke. I don’t know a single person who genuinely goes there.”

“Actually, there is no such thing as a shelter just for Ungifted. And I’m pretty sure those places cannot reject anyone.”

“They can send people away, quite easily too,” said Hamilton. “And black bracelets are only allowed on certain buildings with a stricter regulation. There are many shelters that cannot, legally, admit black bracelets. The best for one is to go directly to a place made for us. It’s only logical. But then again, if no one shuts down the _Buffers_ soon, those shelters are going to disappear soon.”

William felt disconnected for a moment, as if he was watching a movie instead of being a member of the conversation. The people around him were arguing about subjects he never stopped twice to think about, dropping names of organizations that to him were nothing more than a joke and almost a myth, as if they were an actual danger to the world.

He couldn’t help it. He laughed. He only realized his mistake when four fifths of the room turned to look at him like he’d gone mad.

“I’m sorry,” he cleared his throat, “it’s just that, well, the Buffers are not something to worry about! Everybody knows they’re just crazy!” It was basically a club for rich Ungifted who claimed the Skilled were too dangerous and needed to be somewhat contained, or at least kept away from the rest of the population. To people like that, to separate even those who had no other place to go should’ve sounded wonderful. Why would they ever represent a danger?

Thomas snorted. “That only means you have no idea what’s it’s like to be in our shoes. They might be crazy, but they’re very real, and they’re very dangerous, and they’re _everywhere._ Everybody knows to not say they agree with them in public, but they’re more common than what you think.”

“Come on, they’re just a club of haters. They’re irrational. Like the Flat Earth Society.”

“They’re worse than that. They’re Nazis. And there are senators out there who identify with their ideology, who have admitted it during interviews and rallies. They might be crazy, but guess what? This is a large country, and there are a bunch of crazy people out there, making decisions. Their leader started talking about closing the Skilled shelters last year and just the other week a republican congressman proposed they allowed the entrance to Ungifted.”

Well, that was _hardly_ the same thing, right? William might only work with dead people nowadays, but he was still a doctor, and that shaped his opinion, based on facts. “I mean,” he licked his lips, “they’re shelters. Don’t you think it goes against what they stand for if they don’t take people who need a place to stay over something like that? I understand if they need different rooms for castes, but even among Skilled you’re all different. What’s the point in leaving all the Ungifted out?”

“How about, because to the eyes of the law, we’re not the same class of citizens? We live by different rules. We might as well live in different worlds.”

“I don’t get it. You defend the exclusivity for the Skilled in certain places, but are against the bracelets? How does that even make sense?”

“How are those things even related? One thing is supposed to be a sanctuary, and the other is an instrument for segregation, oppression, basically. How can you even compare?”

“How is an accessory like that an instrument of oppression?” asked Anne, as if the idea truly escaped her.

“Woah, you don’t, you don’t get it?” Hamilton arched his eyebrows. “You don’t get it. You really don’t get it. I mean, this thing,” he raised his arm to point at the bracelet, “this doesn’t really tell you anything. You think it does, but really, it only makes us a target.”

Jefferson nodded. “Bracelets suck and are useless. That thing about identifying who can be a menace? That’s ridiculous.”

“But they’re just a sign for—”

“Like the ones Nazis used to identify Jews?” suggested another parent, the doctor with an orange bracelet. “They’re torture devices. They literally can give us electric shocks when our pulse rises too much. Do you have any idea how stressful that is for people with high blood pressure?”

Truth be told, after William had learnt that detail during medical school—and never earlier, what a shame! —he had tried to keep it out of his mind.

“You act as if an Ungifted isn’t capable of killing. No one is out there chasing martial artists.”

“That’s different…”

Jefferson snapped. “How? How is it different?”

“Just because a person can do something doesn’t mean they will,” added Hamilton’s husband softly. “Our society is based on the principle that opportunity makes the thief, and that’s simply not accurate when it comes to _murder_.”

“No one is saying Skilled are inherently murderers!”

“Are you sure about that? What does the Scale of Danger stand for, then?”

The Scale of Danger ruled which color should be the bracelet of a Skilled, based on what would happen in a situation of extreme emotional distress, measuring the possibility of fatal victims in the vicinity and property damage. It contained seven colors—eight, if you counted the special one for neutralized mind readers—and the average Ungifted didn’t really know what they stood for, aside that anything darker than red meant they could “easily” kill people.

But a mind-reader shouldn’t be able to kill someone, and yet they got a black bracelet. There were buildings where they simply weren’t allowed, and all of that because they had a natural access to information some people didn’t want them accidentally learning. That was certainly quite arbitrary, considering the social stigma black bracelets had. William hadn’t noticed before, but that day he realized even he had it. Black bracelets made him nervous, even against his better judgement. He had known those men, those _parents_ , were only there to help him, and yet… he’d been so tense, so _scared_. But the drugged psychiatrist could never endanger his life, not even in a moment of uncontrolled rage. And then again, a moment of uncontrolled rage was very unlikely to happen there. Those four people weren’t a threat, but his body still wanted to believe they were, all because he kept noticing the black on their wrists from the corner of his eye. It was irrational, and he never stopped to consider how ingrained in his brain all those baseless fears could be.

It was as if he was prey, and predators lived among them under certain circumstances. The main condition being, everyone ought to know they were really predators.

But that was ridiculous. The Skilled were people. Nothing in his text books said they had killer instincts. They were just… enhanced people. But people, nevertheless.

Although, wasn’t people the usual perpetrators for any sort of crime? Maybe it was okay to fear other people. People were capable of great horrors. Statistics, however, tended to indicate that the people most likely to perform those horrors were Ungifted. He could speculate and say that the bracelets were the cause for that, somehow keeping the Skilled from committing as many crimes as the rest, but that didn’t change the fact that, objectively speaking, there was no reason for him to be worried about them in that conference room of that elementary school.

And yet, he was. He still was, even now, after all that reflection, sitting on his car, on the passenger seat.

“Well,” he licked his lips, “that was…”

“A total waste of time,” said Anne, adjusting her seatbelt.

William sighed. “No. It was eye opening, I think.”

“We’re going to protect Eddie. He won’t be an enemy of the world, like that Jefferson guy.”

“Did you notice his husband?”

Anne frowned. “No. Who was he?”

“The omega with the lilac bracelet. He tripped a few times?”

“Oh, yeah, I remember him. He barely said a word.”

“He was acting like that because he had to take a pill to be able to go. He needs some sort of permit, otherwise, to enter the school.”

“What? Why?”

“Because he’s a mind-reader. So, forgive me, but I guess I can understand a little bit where Jefferson is coming from. I mean, as an alpha myself, I don’t know how it would make me feel to see my mate restricted like that over something they have no control over. Can you imagine?”

“I’m sure it must be frustrating.”

֍

It was frustrating. Thomas Jefferson couldn’t stand seeing his husband like that.

The first time he’d noticed the man had been at a get-together with some friends from law school. The guy was in Harvard too, but in medical school, and he had a black bracelet. If he was truly honest, that was the thing that called out to Thomas. Less than six percent of the student body, considering both undergrad and graduate programs, were Skilled. And just like Hamilton had put it earlier, they tended to stick together. But if the bracelet had been what joined them, it had not been what kept them that way. If anything, their bracelets were a recurrent cause of stress. But they stayed together, because they were a good match. By the end of that very first night, Thomas had been smitten, and although it had been a little mortifying that each time he addressed in his mind how attractive or brilliant James was, the other could hear it, he didn’t dare to stop their conversation, and eventually, he even liked it. There was something comforting in not having to speak out loud, especially in crowded places. And James was so prudent and respectful, Thomas never feared for all the details they shared. They were a good team, and were usually in great synchrony, which only made it all worse when James had to take those horrible pills.

He understood why people would have confidential stuff at big universities and at government agencies, but an elementary school? That was just ridiculous. And yet James had to go there high as a kite because there wasn’t enough time to get him a permit.

“I’m sorry,” muttered Thomas later that night, after dinner. Large amounts of food helped to clear his mind, and he’d only taken a small dose, which should be wearing off by then.

James sighed. “Don’t be. Please. Honestly, I think today went pretty well.”

Thomas arched one eyebrow. “They’re not actually going to listen to us. I assure you that kid is going to be registered by the end of the week.”

“Is he?” came the dreaded question from the top of the stairs. There, wearing pink pajamas, the serene and yet heartbroken expression on Patsy’s face didn’t belong to a seven-year-old. No one chastised her for being out of bed after they turned off the lights.

“Probably, yes,” admitted Thomas. He then gestured at her to come down. “How well do you know the kid?”

“Eddie?” she stayed silent until she was by their side. “He sits upfront,” Patsy sat at the back, “but he’s okay. He’s funny. A little dumb, but funny. I know Philip always chooses him to play on his team on PE.”

“So he’s a friend of Philip?”

Patsy hummed, pursing her lips. “I wouldn’t say that. But he has a good aim. He’s good for the team.” She passed her dark eyes from one parent to the other, looking, as always, way too bright and sharp for her age. Usually, that was a thing that made her parents proud, but sometimes, sometimes they would’ve liked she was a little more clueless, a little more unaware of the workings of the unkind world they lived in. “He’ll have to wear a bracelet, then?”

James nodded, lips tightening with the things only he could hear that were clouding his daughter’s mind. He never would mention them, not out loud, not without her permission, unless it was something extremely dangerous that required Thomas’s complete understanding. Otherwise, he was respectfully discreet, and the entire family agreed that was the right way to do things, except when it came to little Lucy who, age three, was only then going to a nursery school and if he happened to hear her thinking about mean kids he should tell everyone, according to Thomas and Patsy. Mary hadn’t given her opinion on the matter—not out loud, at least—which had slightly worried her father and sister, but James had insisted it was nothing. He still wouldn’t normally say out loud what he heard inside little Lucy’s head, and never without her permission, which many times was hard to get, but that was his golden rule, when it came to his family. He had been raised like that, always putting family first, and in Thomas he had found a matching soul, with the same priorities and concerns.

“Do you think it was okay to ask Patsy about the boy like that, so soon?” he asked later that evening, appreciating the dim light that his nightstand offered.

Thomas shrugged one shoulder. “Why not? She was going to learn what the meeting was about sooner or later. She’s a smart kid. All our girls are smart.”

“I know that,” he frowned and twisted on the bed, hands folding on top of the now forgotten crossword. “But this is a big deal.”

“Then it’s for the better she has some time to assimilate it.” He honestly believed it, that it was for the better she heard from them exactly what was going on. One shouldn’t underestimate children, but many people did.

Thomas had decided he never would quite early on, back when he was fourteen and the oldest alpha in his household after his father died, leaving a bunch of kids behind. Kids that were all brilliant in their own way, but never got enough attention to be pushed in the right direction, never got any fuel to really shine. He had witnessed how grownups’ indifference shaped young lives for the worse, and he had sworn to never do that.

And so he praised every victory and comforted every lost, making sure his girls always knew how proud he was of them, and that he knew they were capable of many things, if they were willing to give their best. Admitting that they didn’t have to, when it was scary, was a little more difficult; or teaching them that sometimes things were easier for some and harder for others, but he still knew all those lessons were important and that someone guiding them, telling them what the world was harshly teaching them anyway, was only making their foundations firmer, not harming them in any way. They were the most important thing in the world to him, and if was ever tactless, it wasn’t out of disinterest. He just wanted them to be prepared.

֍

Some people said that those who are too alike tend to have bigger fights, and maybe it was true. Certainly, Thomas Jefferson wouldn’t find that a reasonable explanation for the constant animosity between him and Hamilton, and yet many times it seemed to be just in point. But they were alike; high-level alphas who wore black bracelets and were mated to omegas who also wore black bracelets; their childhoods might have differed tremendously, but they ended up in a quite similar place. They definitely had similar trains of thought.

“Are you friends with Edward Van Ness, Philip?” Alexander asked his son as soon as Theo had fallen asleep. Philip, who was in the kid’s class, was sitting on the largest sofa of the living room, wanting to hear how the meeting had gone. He had no idea what it had been about, but he was curious like that.

“Eddie? I don’t know. Steph is my friend. But sure. Eddie’s good at dodgeball, so I always pick him for my team.”

Aaron hummed, coming out of the kitchen with a mug in each hand. “He’s probably going to show up to school wearing a bracelet next week.”

“He’s like us?”

“Yes, but his parents aren’t. That’s why he doesn’t know much about what it’s like to be like us. He might need some help. He’s going to be confused.”

“That’s okay. We can help him,” replied Philip, wearing a small, decisive frown. He looked like a tiny Alexander, with his shoulder-length hair and fierce expression, and it wanted to melt Aaron’s heart.

Still, worry tugged at it, making him hesitate, and go through the conversation time and time again, until it was time to go to bed. It was a problem. Aaron knew it. He was well aware of his flaws, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Overthinking had proved to come in handy, from time to time, especially when one is married to someone as impulsive as Alexander. And normally he kept it under control. Alexander helped with that, too, thanks to his talkative nature. He always knew how to get the problematic thoughts out of his head, discussing them rationally and patiently. After so many years together, Aaron didn’t even wait for Alexander to bring it up. He started those conversations himself, feeling safe enough when it was just the two of them that there would be no judgement, just a kind ear. That night was no different.

“Do you think we’re being irresponsible, Alexander?”

Alexander frowned, twisting on his side so he could fully stare at his husband. “Why do you say that? Irresponsible how?”

Aaron placed a hand on the low of his stomach and bit his bottom lip.

“No,” said Alexander, resolutely. “We’re not. We talked about it. Extensively. And we know what we’re doing.”

“Do we?” he turned too. “Philip is most definitely getting a black bracelet, and honestly, I have no idea what color they’re going to give Theo but, Alex, I think we can say it’s a fact at this point that we make babies with powerful skills.”

“Damn right we do.”

“Alexander. That’s not a _good_ thing.” He sighed. “It worries me. Aren’t we being a little selfish?”

“It didn’t worry you the last forty times we talked about it, babe,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you sure you aren’t just worrying because of, well, today?”

“Today was a long day. What would you say if we had an Ungifted kid?”

Alexander arched his eyebrows. “I’d tell them they’re damn lucky.” He flipped the covers off himself and shifted on the bed until his face was level with Aaron’s belly. “Hey there,” he whispered, “you’re approximately the size of a plum, so there’s no way to know many things about you but,” he licked his lips, “what I do know is that we love you very much, and that your brother and sister are very excited about you moving in with us—well, technically you already live here, but since you’re still inside your daddy you’re quite a silent roommate.”

Aaron tangled his fingers on Alexander’s hair and tugged slightly, shaking his head with a loving smile. The first time his mate had spoken to their unborn kid, back when he was pregnant of Philip, he had thought it was ridiculous and silly and pointless… and, against his better judgement, utterly endearing. He stopped thinking it was pointless after he started doing it himself, but it never stopped making him smile when Alexander did it.

“Except on the mornings when you make him throw up, of course.”

“Alexander!”

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “the point of this little chat was that, whatever our crazy genes end up doing of yours, that’s never going to change how much we love you. Whatever caste you are, or whether you have a skill or not, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is how healthy you are, and your opinion on politics.”

“Alexander!”

“And maybe on religion too.”

“Alright, I think it’s been enough for tonight. You, Mr. Hamilton, ought to fall asleep.” He pulled him up until their noses bumped together, grinning madly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I keeping you awake?” he purred before pressing their lips together.

Aaron hummed affirmatively and deepened the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About 40K words, and that last scene of Alexander talking to Aaron's belly is still one of my favorite moments in this entire thing. Let me know what you think, and if you're interested in what'll come next you may hear from me next Friday!


	3. Our motives to work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, isn’t friendship a beautiful thing?
> 
> Or: Laurens gets mugged by a twelve-year-old, and two Schuyler sisters are introduced. They're awesome.

After a good night of sleep, Aaron was feeling considerably better. He still thought they were being a little selfish by bringing another kid to such a difficult world, but he couldn’t regret it, not when he would walk into the kitchen to find his mate making breakfast and their two kids laughing at whatever nonsense he was telling them. They both had come a long way, and they knew what they were doing. He didn’t have the best of examples, and neither did Alexander, but he thought they were doing alright, and they had two happy, brilliant kids that proved it. Even if they had an Ungifted kid, they wouldn’t be as lost as the Van Ness family. They would be okay, he was almost certain of it. He barely muttered a ‘Good morning’ and got three kisses in return, before he was handed a plate with an omelet and a glass of juice.

“Thank you, sweetie,” he said, mildly amused.

Philip grinned and took a bow before jumping on a stool again.

Theodosia, on the stool across from Aaron’s, rolled her eyes. “He just wants to win points so you’ll let him take the iPad on the bus next Friday.”

“We already said no to that, Phil.”

The seven-year-old pouted comically. “But dad! It’s at least an hour from school to the camping site! What am I supposed to do?”

“I would suggest you talk to someone, but since that doesn’t seem to be an option, then I’d say that you could take a book or play with your phone. Now, if you don’t hurry we’re going to be late. Go brush your teeth.”

“Yes, dad!”

“Don’t run!” yelled Alexander, shaking his head with a wicked grin while he watched the kids rush upstairs. Then he turned to notice his husband looking upset, reading something on his phone. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Aaron sighed. “I was just reading the news… the guy from last week’s shooting claimed dementia, and no one is going to look into his associates.”

Alexander looked furious. “Let me guess. The Buffers claim he has no connection to them, whatsoever” He smashed the counter with his open palm. “Damn it. I can’t believe they keep getting away with this crap! And the Ungifted, they keep _believing_ them! Just like the Van Ness! Remember? They dared to say the Buffers aren’t something to worry about.”

Aaron huffed and shook his head. “Maybe if they were ever prosecuted in the Skilled court one of them could actually get punished for their crimes.”

“How come no one says anything about mixed cases always being prosecuted by the Ungifted court? There should be a mixed jury, at least!”

“They say it’s because they fear the Skilled court might be too severe on the Ungifted, and too lenient on the Skilled.”

“And the Ungifted court isn’t the same?”

“They’re ridiculously obvious in their bias, but…” he sighed, “what can we do?” He stood up and took the few dirty dishes to the sink. It was his turn, since Alexander had cooked.

Alexander stared at his back as he slugged the rest of his coffee, a deep frown still on his face. He wanted to keep arguing, even when two people complaining about the same stuff couldn’t exactly be considered an argument, but he knew Aaron was tired and he wouldn’t indulge him further. They both had to leave for work soon anyway, Aaron with the kids fist, because his job was closest to the school, so he simply left to brush his teeth, and tried to get his mind off it, tried to think of what was awaiting him.

With a third kid on the way, Alexander just wanted to be the best at his job and make it into partner soon. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he’d done many things that weren’t easy already, and he planned to keep doing them. Besides, when it came to his work, he was confident on it. He knew success was coming, and it was moving fast. He knew it because he had the statistics to support him, even when he looked back at his life that so often made people cringe.

But in the meantime, he was still happy in his small office on the fourth floor, a little too close to the bathroom and too far from the kitchen, with a loud neighbor on the cubicle next to him, who also happened to be his best friend. That always helped to make the day better. Well, except on those days when his friend was not in the right mood, which was easy to see as soon as he brusquely sat, somber and tired and begging for coffee.

Alexander arched one eyebrow. “What happened to you?”

Laurens threw his head back and crossed his legs at his ankles. “Someone tried to mug me. Can you believe it?” He raised a hand barely above his chin, extending the palm facing to the floor, “a girl this tall.”

Alexander snorted and handed him a mug of coffee. “What’d you do?”

“I grabbed her wrist while she was trying to take my wallet. I noticed she had a red bracelet so I let her go with a warning.” He sighed. “I hope she’ll listen to me.”

“That’s unlikely, but you did your best.”

“It doesn’t feel like I did much, to be honest,” admitted Laurens, shaking his head. He usually felt like he didn’t do enough, but that was a burden he somehow learnt to live with. It never got easier, but at least he worked at a firm that focused on Skilled issues. He tried to take the girl out of his mind, but still he knew that the minute he got home he would tell all about it to his husband. Whoever said the only people who could form a bond had to belong to different castes had been terribly wrong. Laurens was an alpha, and he was mated to his alpha husband, and they were happy.

But many people didn’t believe alphas could settle down with anyone other than omega. And whereas betas were rarely given an odd look when dating other betas whatever their hormone account, and omega homosexuality was not only considered ‘sexy’, but also empowering, alpha homosexuality was still a major taboo on most countries, developed or not. Queerness really, was a taboo on most countries. Two omegas in a committed relationship were never taken seriously, and even betas whose hormones didn’t counterbalance had to face shit from time to time, but when it came to alphas, it was a different form of discrimination. All discrimination is harmful, and no one can really say that ones are worse than others, because they’re just different and they affect people in different ways. So, no one was saying that the discrimination against queer alphas was the worst one out there. But it was the most openly violent one, when it came to sexuality, and that was a proven fact. Without ignoring the corrective rape queer omegas could face, when it came to everyday interactions, discrimination against them was usually delivered in a condescending manner. Discrimination against queer alphas in everyday interactions was usually the kind that left bruises.

Times were changing, and it was becoming more and more common for alphas to come out, but the working world was still a hostile place, especially for those jobs that demanded traits that were usually connected to alphas, such as brute force. Gay police officers, for example, were most definitely not common.

֍

Hercules didn’t think he was gay. Omegas turned him on. In porn. Sometimes. When they seemed to be having fun. But there had been fire under his skin the few times he allowed himself to step into a club and felt big, powerful hands on his hips that so clearly belonged to an alpha grinding against his ass. He’d been on fire the few times he’d engaged on a bitter kiss, tasting the hormones in someone else’s mouth that were familiar yet new. He’d been on fire when another alpha had made clear their interest in him, and he even had been the one to make the first move a couple of times, succumbing to the flames.

However, he would never make a move on a coworker. He couldn’t. The NYPD wasn’t as intolerant as it used to be, especially not his department, but they weren’t exactly progressive either. And that could be a flaw when it came to help the helpless, but he would always do his best to make every victim feel safe and treat everyone fairly, with as much respect as they deserved. He could only do so much as one individual, but there was no point in complaining about society and then not doing anything differently. Besides, throughout his career, he had met some wonderful people; from fellow officers, medical examiners, attorneys, to doctors and concerned civilians, there was people out there wanting to do better, trying their best, and Hercules lived and breathed for those people. They were not as many as he would’ve liked, but they existed. And when he found them, he tried to keep them close; which was the reason why many times people would call the precinct and demand to speak to him, or even call his cellphone instead, ignoring all procedure. As an officer of the law, he needed to chastise said behavior. As a person, he felt flattered, and could acknowledge too that sometimes it was a more efficient way to get the job done, so really, how could he blame them?

“Who was that?” asked his partner, watching him attentively after a personal phone call. He’d quickly caught on that, many times, his personal phone calls had a lot more to do with their job than with Hercules’s personal life.

He sighed. “Dr. Schuyler. She wants to talk to us.”

Lafayette frowned. “Schuyler, like the attorney?”

Hercules nodded. “They’re sisters. Come on…” he grabbed his jacket and walked out without checking if his partner was following him, lost in his own thoughts about what the meeting could be about. He was familiar by now with ADA Schuyler’s younger sister, Dr. Elizabeth Schuyler; a low-level omega in her mid-thirties who might be the kindest person on earth, but definitely knew how to be tough. He respected her for that and more, and she was a competent professional, but he never quite knew what to expect whenever she demanded to see him. He could only assume it was related to a case, but he didn’t even know _which one_. To his knowledge, she hadn’t seen any of his recent victims.

She was waiting for them wearing a grim face and her phone on her hand. When they were close enough after saying hello, she showed them a picture of a man lying on a hospital bed with ugly bruises on his face and arms.

“He said it was some sort of bar fight and that he had no intention of pressing charges, but it’s standard procedure to check the system for the Skilled who might have inflicted the damage when it’s considerable. And it was.”

“Okay?”

“I think the reason he didn’t want to press charges was because he brought it up on himself.”

Hercules frowned. “Eliza, you’ll have to be more—”

“I believe he attacked your rape victim, and she defended herself. That’s how he got injured. The set of skills match the bruises in both of them.”

“Let’s go ask him for a DNA sample then.”

“Let me know if he says no, and I’ll get it for you.”

She had only been in the same room with the guy for about ten minutes, but she couldn’t stand him. She knew he had done it. She’d had a hunch, from even before she checked the system, that he had gotten those injuries out of injuring someone else. She knew the poor girl had only been trying to defend herself, and she knew that he felt confident that she wouldn’t talk. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so calm visiting the hospital. But all that smugness would probably disappear once the police asked him for a DNA sample. Luckily, it shouldn’t be so difficult to get a glass or spoon he used, which she was pretty sure would be the only way to get it, unless they got a warrant.

֍

“We got ourselves a perpetrator,” announced Van Ness, about four hours later. “Your suspect is definitely the one who did it.”

Hercules finally felt like he could breathe a little easier, even as his stomach contracted. “Let’s go catch the bastard.”

It was always a race, the way before arresting a suspect, and the solid evidence didn’t take the urgency off it. Until they had the perp in custody, they could always get away. And what was worse, even after they got them, sometimes they still managed to get away. The system was flawed like that. But he tried not to think of it and enjoyed the moment of locking the handcuffs in place, although he enjoyed the drive back to the station a little bit less. The man switched from anger to patience in the blink of an eye, smiling sheepishly with a shadow of mischief that made Hercules uncomfortable and perhaps a little paranoid. If his instincts were right, that man had a strategy, a defense ready, and he wasn’t worried. He was a rapist playing the character of a decent man that knew later the police would have to apologize to him. By the time he was interrogating him, his unsettlement turned into rage with the words that were so calmly delivered. He almost didn’t hear the knock on the door, and his partner had to grab his arm to tell him they were needed outside.

“Okay, that interrogation is over until his lawyer gets here,” said the Captain, giving him a stern look.

Hercules huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, barely resisting the urge to kick the floor, but he didn’t argue. He played by the rules. He always did. But sometimes he wished the rules were a little different.

Their attorney was only then getting there, and she seemed surprised that she missed the interrogation, but she caught on the atmosphere in a second. “What is it?”

“The bastard is saying he only raped her because she used her skill on him. That it was some sort of punishment. That’s not going to hold in court, right?”

Angelica didn’t seem to like the news. “Well… no, I mean, it’s not going to get him off…”

“But it could get him some lenience from the jury,” said Captain Washington. “Is there any way to prove what happened before? That she wasn’t just defending herself?”

Hercules shrugged one shoulder and grabbed his coat. “I’ll go ask Van Ness.”

“Wait,” said Lafayette, wearing a deep frown, “but shouldn’t this case go to the Skilled court? I mean, both the victim and the defendant are Skilled. Why is the Ungifted court handling it?”

“Because it’s a case of sexual assault, and that’s my bureau’s jurisdiction,” replied Angelica.

“But in the Skilled court I assure you, his allegations would be meaningless.”

She folded her arms on top of her chest and glared at him. “But that’s not okay either!”

“Are you kidding? You don’t rape someone just because—”

“Don’t forget she’s a green bracelet!”

“And he’s a red one! He’s not exactly defenseless!”

“He chose not to hurt her with his skill though.”

“No, he did something _worse_. I can’t believe you genuinely believe that her attacking him first could attenuate his offense.”

“An Ungifted jury might think so.”

“And that’s _bullshit_!”

“Okay,” Hercules stood up and placed a hand on Lafayette’s shoulder. “Let’s go talk to Van Ness. Come on.”

Gilbert didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay there and keep telling Angelica she was wrong. But the firm hand on his shoulder seemed to clear a path in his clouded mind, helping him to realize there was really no point in insisting when the other person would never listen. He sighed, frustrated, once he felt safe inside his partner’s car. He was suddenly very tired. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hercules seemed to hesitate before speaking, which never meant anything good, so he decided to say before: “Would you mind if I took a nap? I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

The ride to the medical examiner’s office was not particularly long, but still Hercules said, wearing a sympathetic expression: “Sure, don’t worry about it.”

֍

The talk with Van Ness turned out to be just disheartening. Willie said he would do his best to try and find something that cleared out the order in which the events had occurred, but he hadn’t looked exactly optimistic. And their mood and hopes wouldn’t improve for a while yet, not with the news the attorney would give them later.

“He’s going to walk on bail until the trial,” said Angelica. “I’m sorry.”

Lafayette’s face went through several emotions, but no sound left his mouth. His bracelet, however, made a weird ticking noise, and he made his way to the window and opened it. There, he took a deep breath, and focused on the cars and the people out on the street going on with their day with their own problems. Rarely anyone looked happy when walking in a hurry, but that didn’t mean anything. Most people’s resting faces didn’t include smiles, and wasn’t that a sad fact? What did it say about their society?

“Is the trial going to be soon at least?” he asked softly.

“Yes, of course…” she looked almost as if she wanted to comfort him, but she left instead, without another word, and that was really for the better.

The system was very tricky when it came to Skilled defendants. Mostly due to the fact that the only prisons equipped to hold them were not always on the best terms with the rest of the judicial institutions. Everyone tended to agree that the Skilled prisons were just too nice, and after years of fighting over it, Skilled inmates were just not allowed on Ungifted prisons—not because the Ungifted didn’t feel like they could handle them, but because the Skilled activists constantly exposed the use of exaggerated force and other inexcusable vexations towards Skilled inmates which allowed for a ban to be passed, and now, judges many times preferred they were released under bail as soon as possible than to send them to what most people considered free hotels. Objectively speaking, they were wrong. Being deprived of one’s liberty is punishment enough. The fulfillment of basic needs shouldn’t be considered a privilege. The _absence of pain_ shouldn’t be considered a privilege. But somehow it was. And so, people like James Reynolds had to be quickly released of police custody because police stations didn’t have the means to hold a Skilled in a cell for more than twelve hours—since they had a very limited amount of blockers that ought to be reserved for emergencies—and Ungifted prisons couldn’t take them and a Skilled prison usually didn’t come into place until an actual sentence had been emitted.

All of that, of course, only happened when they were Ungifted judges handling the situation. When it came to the Skilled court, they were immediately placed on some Skilled prison’s pavilion that had been created exclusively for that mean—to hold criminals without a sentence or those that were still under investigation. The truth was that the Skilled judicial system was pretty advanced in what concerned human rights, but that was a fact no Ungifted cared to report on, and it wasn’t common knowledge. Not even most cops knew very well how their system worked, because even though it was still a public entity, everyone acted as if it was some sort of concession, merely because everyone working on it were Skilled. It was something that pissed Gilbert off, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He tried to educate those he cared about, but he didn’t get that many opportunities to do so, which only frustrated him further. There in the precinct and away from Angelica’s apologetic face, he only wished he could’ve told her all that. He only wished he could’ve found a seat or a blackboard and just, make her listen. Make her listen to all the reasons why the Ungifted court wasn’t qualified to handle that case. Make her listen to all the reasons why the system was wrong. Make her listen, just for once, to how no matter how hard she worked, she wasn’t going to win that case. He wanted to hit something, and he could feel his bracelet heating off on his wrist, warming him about his pulse rising. And maybe the damn thing was right to warn him. Maybe, in a different world, he would’ve released some of his energy in a deafening, blinding lightning the size of a tree.

But this wasn’t a different world, and he didn’t want to end up suspended with a painful blocker for a month. So, he simply took one last breath, closed the window, and went back to his desk.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled softly, staring at his messy desk.

“No,” said Hercules, “I am. I get it. And I agree with you.”

“You do?”

Hercules nodded. “I think this case should go to the Skilled court. But that’s not going to happen, and Angelica is really good at her job. Give her a chance to prove it to you.”

Angelica Schuyler was a famous ADA and she had nothing to prove to a simple detective, but it was nice to hear that. It was nice to hear that his opinion was not tied to his biology or background, that someone else, someone who was nothing like him, could still see things the same way he did.

“Let’s go tell Maria,” said Hercules.

“What?”

“We need to warn her before he does. Come on.”

Gilbert trailed behind his partner, which he seemed to be doing a lot lately, once again wondering exactly what was going on in his head. He usually thought it surely was fascinating, detective Mulligan’s head, because not only he was brilliant in his deductions, he was also very good at hiding what he was thinking, and Gilbert always liked a good enigma. That was the whole reason he entered the police academy on the first place. Well, that, and the unrealistic idea that he could somehow even the playfield a little bit. He didn’t like to think he was naïve. He knew one police officer out there wouldn’t make much of a difference. But it was still _something._ He liked to believe that just by being out there, doing a better job than most, he could give the people like him some hope.

He hadn’t been doing much of that after all. Otherwise, victims like Maria Lewis would go forward, say that they know who attacked them, give their name and description and dare to press charges, instead of staying quiet, hurting and alone in a hospital bed.

When she first saw them arrive, she didn’t look happy to see them.

The thing is, it wasn’t necessarily personal. That was a person that had gone through hell, and he couldn’t ask of her any sort of positivity. He didn’t think he was a narcissistic person, but it still hurt. It didn’t only hurt his pride, and that spot inside that had resisted when one of his oldest friends told him becoming a cop would be a bad idea, but it also hurt his heart. It wasn’t that to her, his face wasn’t a friendly one, it was that if he wasn’t, then what friends did she have out there? Why was she alone at the hospital? Why was she there at all?

He didn’t have any answers but Lord, he wanted them. He could only enjoy enigmas when the uncertainty wasn’t hurting anybody. If that wasn’t the case, the chase stopped being something fun to do and it became the thing that kept him sane. For his sanity, he needed not only to understand, but to see that the omega lying on the bed got better one day.

As always, his partner’s face didn’t give anything away, but Gilbert wanted to think that they were on the same page. The Ungifted stood a few feet away from the bed and stared at her with a conflictive expression, silent for a moment in which no one spoke. Gilbert almost did, but he didn’t have the least idea of what to say.

“Why didn’t you tell us he did it, Miss Lewis?”

She looked away with a pained expression on her face, and Gilbert almost apologized. He wanted to. And he also wanted to ask his partner what the hell he was doing. He bit his bottom lip and considered standing closer to the bed, to let her know that he was on her side, but he didn’t know how.

“Miss Lewis…"

“What is he saying? How did you get to him?”

“He had to go to the hospital because of what you did. Maria, we have to ask, when did you attack him? Was it…?”

“No! I was only defending myself! I… I tried to stop him,” she sobbed, “but he wouldn’t. It was all useless.”

Hercules nodded. “I’m sorry. That’s going to be his defense. That you attacked him first.”

“But wait, who is pressing charges? I,” she shook her head, “I can’t go against him. He’ll have me evicted. I…!”

“Well, the DA’s office is,” said Gilbert, wearing a sympathetic grimace. “The doctor that saw him in the ER connected the dots. I’m sorry. He already knows. Are you sure he can do that?”

“He’s my landlord. He can do whatever the hell he wants. And you know how they are with Skilled tenants. All my things will be on the street like this,” she snapped her fingers. “What am I going to do?”

“The doctor said you can go this afternoon. If you’re sure you won’t be able to stay at your apartment, then I can help you move out. I have a truck.”

She tried to give him a smile. “Thank you, detective.” Her grip on the sheets tightened. “But that won’t be necessary. I’ll… I’ll wait.”

“That’s okay.”

It really wasn’t. Not entirely. But it was her choice, and they would respect it. That was the least they could do.

Gilbert left the hospital with a sour taste on his mouth, feeling like instead of giving her power back, they were only contributing to her downfall. The omega he had only seen lying on a hospital bed was a broken girl; skinny, fragile, covered in bruises and fears that would last even longer to go away, if they ever did. Gilbert thought back to the female omegas he was close to and couldn’t imagine them looking like that. He didn’t want to, but he didn’t think he could either. The media tried to push the picture of frail omegas down everyone’s throats, but he knew that was nothing but a stereotype. Even those that used their looks to their convenience were strong at the end. And watching one stripped of all their confidence and security, threatened not only by the memory of what had happened but because she was literally at her rapist’s mercy, simply was too much for Gil to handle.

Maybe that wasn’t the right job for him after all.

“We’re going to get him, Laf,” said his partner, once they were inside the car. “We’re going to get him, and no one is going to hurt her again. Not anymore. We’re going to help her, okay?”

Gilbert swallowed hard, and almost didn’t raise his head to stare into his partner’s penetrating gaze. When he did, he was both, glad and sorry he had. He nodded, and Hercules responded the same.

The trip back to the precinct was silent. So quiet that Gilbert feared Hercules might have heard the deafening beating of his problematic heart.

֍

Getting everything ready for the school trip on Friday morning, Aaron’s mind kept wondering off. He could hear Alexander making sure the kids had everything with enthusiasm in his voice, and he wished he could be that excited. He understood that this probably brought happy memories to Alexander’s mind, from a time where everything was easier, but Aaron never had anything like that. School trips had never been any fun, not even without a bracelet on and a protective, popular sister by his side. And now?

“Why do the parents have to participate in this, though?” he couldn’t help to wonder out loud, when Alexander joined him in the kitchen. The kids were still upstairs, getting ready.

“Well, why not?” asked Alexander. “Look, I’m not a fan of the seventeen Ungifted couples we barely know, but the Van Ness are almost nice. Let’s use this opportunity to talk more to them, see if there’s anything we can do to help Eddie.”

“We don’t even know what Eddie looks like.”

“No, but we know he’s good at dodgeball. Come on.” He grabbed his mate’s hand over the counter just as his phone rattled next to them. He glanced at the text on the screen and snorted a laugh.

“What’s that?”

“Laurens is an idiot, that’s all. A girl tried to rob him last Wednesday and now he saw her again trying to pull the same crap to someone else.”

Aaron frowned. “Is he going to call the cops?”

Alexander grabbed the phone while shaking his head, reading the rest of the message. “She’s a kid. And wears a red bracelet. He just told the guy that it was a stupid bet from a classmate, you know how kids are, the whole show. What does Laurens know about children anyway?” He chuckled under his breath.

“He probably would agree with me on that this trip is going to be…”

“This trip is going to be great,” replied Alexander, interrupting him. “Great.”

Aaron disagreed, but he didn’t voice it. He knew his husband could see it on his face, so he decided to distract him in the best way he knew how, pulling him closer and pressing their lips together, relishing in the way Alexander’s arms wrapped around him. There, in their kitchen, standing against his mate, Aaron felt content. He felt safe in their bubble, inhaling Alexander’s scent, and it helped clear his mind of all worries for a few seconds. Only for a few seconds, though. But he couldn’t be mad when the interruption came in the form of a loud groan.

“Seriously, we eat here. Our food is cooked here. Do you have to do that?” asked Philip, overly dramatic.

By his side, Theo rolled her eyes and pushed him. “Are you guys ready? Can we go?” she asked then, way more worried about being in time than what her parents did when they weren’t looking. ‘ _Couples kiss, right? It’s what they do_ ’, she would say to Mary or Philip whenever they asked how come she didn’t care.

Aaron could only be thankful that Alexander’s arms were still around him. He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. We still have time, but we’re ready.” Sort of. He didn’t think he would ever be ready, not really, especially because none of their friends were going—Michael and Helena simply never went to those things, and Mary was sick, so Thomas and James weren’t going either—but also because he hated being around large groups of Ungifted. Hated it. He couldn’t help it, it was a consequence of, well, life. But at least he would have an hour on his car alone with his husband, where they would be able to pick the soundtrack for once, which rarely had happened on the last seven years, and maybe he could relax. Maybe. If Alexander held his hand.

And Alexander would, of course he would. He would touch Aaron in any way as soon as he could. One would think that after being bonded for over ten years they may be so used to be near each other that they wouldn’t crave contact, but Alexander could never have enough of Aaron’s skin. He was a comforting weight beside him, his safety blanket, and some instinctive part in his brain simply needed the world to know that they were together. But being without an audience was even better, of course. Especially because Aaron without an audience was a completely different person, sometimes. Back when they first met, that fact had unsettled Alexander, but now he loved it. He loved it in a selfish way, because he knew he was one of the few allowed to see it, and that made him feel special. That was childish, of course. The fact that Aaron had chose to spend the rest of his life with him should’ve been enough to know that _he_ _was_ special. But everybody likes a little reassurance. And the way Aaron would lean into his touch as soon as they got closer was exactly that, and Alexander loved it.

Still, he knew that during the activity they would probably separate. Aaron would seek out some calmness, whereas Alexander would be right in the middle of it, the other parents’ discomfort be damned. Philip was a popular kid, smart and kind and good at sports—ridiculously _good_ at sports—and he wouldn’t miss a thing, nor would he stop playing with him and against him on the school activities that had been designed with that in mind. It didn’t happen often, and most of the time, he stayed out of their way. He knew how he made other people feel. But not that day; that day he would be in every game, while Aaron hid.

He was mentally prepared to meet many displeased faces, ready to fight them, so he was more than a little surprised when one of the first—Ungifted—faces he met turned bright and a little shy to see them. It made Alexander stumble on his feet for a second, to try and find the right mood to answer the man.

“Hello!” greeted them William Van Ness, with odd enthusiasm. “I didn’t think you’d come!”

“We almost didn’t, actually,” admitted Alexander. He then gestured towards his husband, who was already engrossed in a conversation with another Skilled parent, the doctor, David, with his head. “He’s not a huge fan of these things.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

Alexander arched an incredulous eyebrow. “Why?”

The Ungifted bit his bottom lip, looking embarrassed. “I know the last time we met wasn’t… the best. We were a little reticent to accept our own privilege, I guess. But Eddie has mentioned Philip a lot these past two weeks, so…” he cleared his throat, “I would like it if we could be friends, one day.”

“I would like that,” said Alexander sincerely, pleasantly surprised. Philip hadn’t mentioned Eddie that much, but seeing them interact right then, they seemed to be getting along really well. Alexander understood that the kid probably needed it, someone who didn’t care about the red on his wrist, someone who could teach him to see his skill as something fun about himself, not a character flaw. As a kid, interacting with other Skilled children is important. Keeping it a secret from the Ungifted children is important too, really, but since little Edward was already beyond that point, he needed all the help he could get, and Alexander couldn’t help to be proud that his son was helping.

But maybe it was because of that pride that he would sometimes make bad choices, like he did after Aaron had disappeared with Theo and some other parents of her class. As the only adult around that really knew what could happen when two Skilled kids felt with some extra freedom, he should’ve been extra careful. But he wasn’t. He only smiled when he heard Eddie plead:

“Please, show me!”.

Philip bit his bottom lip, clearly excited with the idea, and then glanced at his father, who was already starting to doubt. “Can I, pops?”

Alexander was an adult. A responsible adult, soon to be in charge of three kids, and currently unable of saying no to Philip’s hopeful face. He looked around, making sure no one else was near, and then nodded subtly.

Philip asked Eddie in a whisper: “Do you have a bottle of water?”

Eddie checked his backpack, humming. “I have sparkling water.”

“That’ll do. Give it to me.” He grabbed the bottle and stared at it, taking a deep breath, before uncapping it. Then, following the gracious movements of his left hand, the water lifted on its own, leaving the bottle and twirling and spiraling in the air. Drawing in the air with his fingers, he manipulated the water into forming beautiful figures, making both Edward and William gasp in awe.

They all caught their breaths when somebody stole the bottle from Philip’s hands, but they relaxed a little when they notice it was only Aaron. He looked furious though.

“I’m sorry dad,” mumbled Philip softly.

“Oh shit, I’m so, so sorry,” added Alexander.

Aaron stared at Alexander for a moment, betrayal and disbelief tainting his normally neutral features, then turned in his feet and walked away from them, in direction to the parking lot.

Alexander looked like he didn’t know what to do, so William placed a hand on his bicep and said: “Let me try to fix this.”

“I’m not sure you’ll have such luck.”

He would try anyway. Sure, he had to run a little bit, but that way at least they were all alone to talk freely.

“Hey,” called William, “please don’t go. Can we talk about what just happened?”

For a moment it seemed like the omega would just ignore him and keep walking, but he stopped. He didn’t turn around though, not at first. “What do you want to talk about?” He hugged his sides and finally turned. “I’m pretty sure the situation was pretty clear.”

“No,” William shook his head, “it wasn’t. Just… please?”

The omega sighed and pointed at a bench nearby. “Let’s sit there, then.”

William waited a moment before opening his mouth again, pondering his words carefully. “How long have you known about Philip’s skill?”

“I don’t think we ever doubted he would have one. As for the details of it? We suspected what it was when he was about a year. Confirmed it, when he was three. It… it’s actually a lot like his father’s skill, so they train together often. That’s why he can control it so well. He’s very talented.”

“But why haven’t you registered him yet?”

“It’s not mandatory at his age. We won’t do it until we have no other choice.”

“Why?”

Aaron’s lips tightened. “We already told you, didn’t we?” he sighed. “I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”

“It’s William Van Ness. Don’t worry, I believe I forgot yours as well.”

The omega smirked. “I’m Aaron Burr. Anyway, I can call you William, right?”

Van Ness nodded.

“Very well, William… the world isn’t _kind_ to us. You might think that it isn’t kind to anyone, but,” he gripped his bracelet, “when you wear one of these, you’re guaranteed to have a lot of closed doors. People… people fear you, especially with a dark one. And when people fear you, they’re hardly ever nice. And what’s worse, they feel like they’re entitled to be the way they are. As if their fear justifies their cruelty.” He leaned back on the bench and closed his eyes for a moment, blinded by the sun that passed through some tree branches that were supposed to keep them in the shadows, like their conversation ought to be. He took a deep breath, cataloguing the different smells on the middle of the camping site, far enough from the place where all the kids were. “Besides, Philip is definitely getting a black one. Do you have any idea how many places are forbidden when you have a black bracelet?”

William was embarrassed to admit that he didn’t. He shook his head.

“There are even some forbidden areas at the Met. It’s ridiculous.” He sighed as he stood up. “Well, let’s go back. I believe they’ve suffered enough for now.” He was still going to have words with them, once they were back at home. More with Alexander, who ought to know better, but with Philip as well.

He understood, of course he did, but there was too much at stake. They needed to be careful. He had a whole speech planned, but his resolve plummeted by the time he really had to do it, back at home. Alexander stood at a respectful distance, and Aaron hated it.

“I’m sorry,” muttered Philip, before anyone had the chance to say anything. He looked apologetic and ashamed, but he met his eyes anyway. But Philip was that way, too much like his father; he never tried to escape, not even a punishment.

Aaron sighed, absolutely defeated by brown eyes and long hair, as usual. “It’s okay. Just promise me you’ll never do it again. You know what could happen if anyone saw you.”

“I know. I promise. I only did it because Eddie had never seen it.”

He smiled and rubbed Philip’s cheek before going to sit on the couch. He could’ve made him promise, right then. He could’ve asked again, and all his fears would’ve been appeased, but he didn’t. The two alphas followed him and sat one at each side. Aaron felt instantly better, passing one arm over his son’s shoulders and holding his husband’s hand.

“You’re good friends now?”

“I guess. Ever since he showed up wearing a bracelet it has been weird. At first, they wanted to see what he could do, but after a while… I don’t know. He looked sad, so I convinced Stephen to include him on our games. Patsy did too.”

Aaron wasn’t surprised to hear that, but it broke his heart nevertheless. There was a reason they had picked the same school as the Jefferson’s, after all. Because who didn’t remember, painfully so, the first time they wore a bracelet to school? To this day, it was one of the memories that hurt the most. The strongest reminder of the Ungifted’s unnecessary cruelty and their unsolicited fear. Every Skilled he knew had stories about friends that stopped talking to them, houses they suddenly were not allowed in anymore, teachers that started treating them coldly. He could only be glad that Philip and his friends had noticed and did their best to try and comfort the poor kid, who couldn’t have been ready for that. He understood his parents’ gratitude all the more too.

He loathed to think of the day his kids would get their bracelets. Loathed it. And one more time, he wondered if having kids at all had been a bad idea. Selfish, to bring them into such a cruel world. But he loved them, he loved them so much, and he couldn’t dare to imagine a world in which they weren’t there. Because a world without them would be a worse world. Darker, meaner, emptier world, and one Aaron wished to never go back to. Because sometimes, the one thing that managed to get him through heavy, unrepentant days at his work was the knowledge that he would make it back home to a place full of life and laughter and love. Sometimes he had to explicitly conjure their faces in his mind, to find the drive to get anything done. And there were other days in which the one thing he could do was try to keep them as far from his mind as he could, to stop himself from seeing them there, on the victim’s or the defendant’s eyes, whenever he was on trial. It was a delicate balance, that one. One that not many people understood.

One of his colleagues, for example, who was second chair on his latest case, Axel von Fersen, had no idea what he meant by all that, nor how he could find time to think of anything outside the case at any point. Then again, the alpha had no children, so maybe that explained it. He knew for a fact that Alexander understood.

But that wasn’t the reason he craved for an excuse to step away from the man. He didn’t have anything against him; Fersen was kind, intelligent, and professional. He agreed with Aaron’s strategies, most of the time, and he never gave any hints that being second chair to Aaron might upset him. But he was _boring_. Or at least, they had nothing in common, and Aaron simply couldn’t think of a worst way to spend his short recess for lunch than with the guy. So, when he found a familiar face on a hallway of the courthouse, he immediately stopped talking to the man at his side and the surprise on his face quickly shifted into a smile. “William?”

“Aaron!” The alpha looked just as surprised and happy to see him. “Hey, what a nice surprise! What are you doing here?”

“I’m working,” he dismissed his coworker with a wave of his hand; Axel nodded and walked away, unbothered. “I’m an attorney. And you?”

“I had to testify today. I’m a medical examiner…” he bit his bottom lip, “hey, when can you go to lunch? I was just going to get something and maybe…”

“I was about to do that myself,” replied Aaron, interrupting him with a friendly grin.

They walked together into a small diner nearby, talking amicably about everything and nothing; the school, the kids, and of course, how little William enjoyed having to testify. Aaron had found that little detail amusing but unsurprising.

Around the time they waited for dessert, William kept glancing at his phone nervously, most of his good mood long forgotten, replaced by palpable anxiety.

Aaron watched him for a few minutes, unsure if it really was his place to say anything about it, but it worried him that it might have been something to do with his son, and so he had to ask: “Is everything okay?”

William’s eyes widened, as if he was surprised Aaron had noticed his state. “Well…” he licked his lips, “not exactly. I’m sorry if I got distracted, but I got a text from a detective and it reminded me of a case I’m working on that’s just…” he grimaced and sighed. “I’m stuck. I have no idea what to do. I’m just trying to find something that can prove the order in which two events happened, but I can’t. Sadly, that order shapes the case. And at this point, we have no idea what really happened.”

“Man, that’s shitty,” said Aaron, sympathetic.

William nodded. “I mean, to be honest, nothing justifies a sexual assault. But an Ungifted jury is definitely going to give some lenience to the perp if they think he only did it because _she_ attacked him first.”

“That’s what he’s going with?”

William nodded again. “Yeah, I know, it sounds ridiculous, but the problem is that they can prove he was attacked by her. And not in any way.”

Aaron frowned. “Wait. Your victim is a Skilled?”

“And so is the perpetrator.”

“Then why isn’t this case in the Skilled court?”

“Because of the sexual assault.”

“I understand why the police would designate certain detectives for a case like that, but an attorney? And the jury? The Skilled court is definitely more prepared for a case like that. I’ll need you to tell me more about it so I can get a motion to move it.”

William paled. “Uh, no one will like that.” Specifically, Angelica wouldn’t. “But the ADA that SVU works with is amazing. She’ll handle it. She’s doing her best for the victim.”

“And all the jury will see is people with bracelets on their wrists, William. One who used their skill, and one who didn’t.”

William gulped. Then he opened his briefcase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, it got a little longer than what I wanted (my first idea had been to keep them all on the 5k count, but by the look of the following chapters, that's going to be difficult), and I feel like it doesn't have enough Hamburr in it, but I'm still happy with it.
> 
> Thank you to all that left kudos on the last chapter! I hope you'll like this one as well :) See you all next Friday!


	4. A broken system

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both food and Netflix are good for bonding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading this on Thursday night because I'll be busy tomorrow!

There are times in which one can just tell that too much information has slipped out, and it surely will come back to bite you in the ass. Times in which one can tells as soon as the words have been spoken. There are even times in which one can tell what the consequences will be before saying anything, but still make the decision to share it all anyway, for one reason or another.

When Van Ness told Aaron Burr about Maria Lewis’s case, he did it knowing that the Skilled would want to get the case moved. Maybe he hadn’t told him with that intention, maybe he did. But the point stood that he had told him anyway, even when he knew that Angelica Schuyler’s wrath would come knocking on his door soon enough. Hence, he was surprised when it didn’t, and wondered if the universe had some sort of sense of humor by making him a witness to someone else about to pay for the consequences of his own actions. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe it was a test, but a joke he could buy.

When she stormed in the SVU squad room, Angelica looked livid. “It was you, wasn’t it? Hey, Lafayette!”

Detective Lafayette looked up from the files he’d been studying looking utterly confused and didn’t notice William trying to make himself smaller in his seat. “What did I do?”

“You made the motion to move the Lewis case to the Skilled court! I told you that was my case!”

“And I disagreed. But I didn’t do such thing, I swear.”

William wished he could be so calm while a high-level alpha roared at him like that. He never liked being yelled at. It made him nervous. But he could see that the detective wasn’t intimidated, and they would continue the argument until they got to the bottom of it. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat before admitting: “I did it. I’m sorry. I mean, I didn’t make the petition, but I told someone who did. Not with that purpose! It just came up in our conversation. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Angelica’s rage didn’t disappear, but her voice shifted into something more like confusion and her stance went from offensive to defensive. “Why would you talk about it?”

William wasn’t a good liar, but he deflected anyway. “I never thought he’d do that. I’m so, so sorry.”

She threw her head back and closed her eyes, suddenly looking very tired. With a sigh, she rubbed her forehead with his thumb and middle finger, her gaze unfocused, her mind somewhere else. “I can’t believe this…”

“But what happened?” asked Lafayette, ignorant to William’s gratitude at his interference. “Are they going to move it?”

“The case is being studied. It’s still unclear.”

“It can’t be that hard to make a decision about it. Both the victim and the perp are Skilled. Normally, this shouldn’t even be an issue.”

“But _it is_ one,” replied Angelica. “And this is my case, don’t forget it. Our case. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“Hey, I’m all for team work, but this? This should have a Skilled jury. That’s all I’m saying. And I’m sure that’s what Van Ness’s friend thought as well.”

William nodded. “That’s what he said, yes.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, tiredly, while rubbing her temple. “Who is he, anyway?”

“He…” he swallowed, “his son is a friend of my son.”

Angelica had been done with the conversation before it started, and now her patience was running out, and it showed on her growing red face. “William—”

“Aaron Burr, an ADA for the Skilled court.”

Her eyes widened in unconcealed shock. “What?!”

William was taken aback by her reaction. “You’ve heard of him?”

Her face gave nothing away, but Angelica had heard of him alright. Aaron Burr was famous. Not only he was one of the few omega prosecutors, he was also the first—and only so far—black bracelet on the DA’s office. Although aside from that, she didn’t know much about him. Just that he was good at his job. Reasonable, too. A man famous for listening. That’s why she decided to talk to him reasonably at his office instead of going aggressively to take her case back. After she was easily let inside and offered a seat, she had a good feeling about it all, and her smile turned a little more genuine.

“Hello, Mr. Burr? My name is Angelica Schuyler, I’m an ADA with the Sex Crime Bureau.”

He nodded, apparently aware of who she was also. “You were the prosecutor on the case against Reynolds.”

“Still am,” she replied through gritted teeth, already struggling to keep her smile on. She had sung victory too early. “It hasn’t been moved yet.”

“But it will be.”

“Even if it did, I should still be the prosecutor.”

Aaron frowned. “I understand that you care about this case, but so do I. You can trust in that I will do my job, Miss Schuyler.”

“It’s my case. I know all about it—”

“I know how to read. All the information about the case is available and I have already memorized it.”

“That’s not enough!”

“No. We’re not, after all, the only factor on a trial. I can do a wonderful job, but it won’t matter if the jury makes up their mind before the trial begins. And that _will_ happen on your court. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.”

She almost stopped him, but she knew it would’ve been pointless. Clearly, there would be no convincing Aaron Burr, who had already made up _his_ mind about the entire situation. Besides, black bracelet or not, he was still an omega, and she as an alpha wasn’t comfortable keeping him anywhere after he said he was leaving.

Still, even though her tactic didn’t work, she didn’t regret it. She had been raised to try the direct approach first, whenever she faced a complicated situation or a strong disagreement with a stranger. Philip and Catherine taught all their children that, and to this day, they followed it, all of them.

֍

Eliza had found her way into Maria Lewis’s hospital room the afternoon before she left, not a week after the attack, merely minutes after the detectives had left. She hadn’t known what to say at first; the poor girl looked so fragile and vulnerable, and Eliza knew that conversations could be exhausting. She already looked tired, and if Eliza wasn’t careful, it would be irresponsible of the hospital to let her go at all that day.

She gave her tenderest smile, and stayed near the door, almost outside of the room, even as she closed it for privacy. Miss Lewis didn’t seem to know what a doctor might be doing at her room, but she was more curious than concerned.

“They told me you’re afraid of the man that attacked you. But I assure you, if you go to trial, he _will_ go to jail. You’ll be safe.”

Miss Lewis arched her eyebrows. “They sent you here to convince me?”

“No. No one sent me here. I wanted to meet you.” She wasn’t sure why, but she’s wanted to ever since the lab confirmed she had been the one hurting Reynolds. “I had to treat his wounds. The problem with being a doctor is that you have to treat even bad people.”

“I thought suspects were innocent until proven otherwise?”

Eliza rolled her eyes. “Bad people don’t always commit crimes, but you can tell they’re bad anyway. I was sure he had earned his wounds before I found out about you.”

Maria’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. She closed them, but shortly.  When she opened them again, the tears were still there along with a panic that until then had been completely hidden as she said: “He’s my landlord. I can’t move. I don’t want to go to a shelter, and I owe him money. I don’t know what to do!”

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much do you owe? I can give you a loan. You can find another place to live. Get far away from him.”

“But if I’m so behind in my rent, what makes you think I could ever repay you?”

“I’d rather you owed me than him.” She barely knew the girl, but she hated to see her in such a horrendous situation, in debt to her rapist. She just wanted to get her out of there.

“Why?”

“Because you’re terrified, and I believe you’re stuck in a living nightmare.” She shook her head, feeling her ponytail bounce, and bit her bottom lip. There was another reason, too. She walked a few more steps to be as close as she could to confess: “And if I were in your place, I’d like to have someone helping me, even if it’s a stranger.”

Maria burst out crying. She tried to muffle her sobs with a hand, but Eliza opened her arms for her and she jumped there, hugging her tightly. “Thank you so much!”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Eliza assured her, and lightly patted her hair, wanting to give her both space and comfort. In spite of being in a hospital bed, her hair was incredibly soft.

Not a week after that, Maria was living with her when Angelica broke the news about the possibility of the case being moved to a different court. It was scary, for Eliza, to think of a stranger handling it instead of her dear sister, who was extraordinary, but Maria seemed only intrigued and not particularly worried. Still, she listened to Eliza’s concerns, and then suggested they continued with their little pastime they had acquired: watching a different Skilled movie every afternoon. Maria had been shocked when she found out that Eliza wasn’t familiar with any of her favorite movies, and soon enough they realized why that was. Eliza hadn’t seen a single Skilled movie, and when they checked her Netflix account, they noticed all of her suggestions were strictly Ungifted. All the writers, directors, actors and the general narrative consisted of Ungifted people and their issues.

Maria didn’t have her own Netflix account, but Eliza created a new user for her, where she specified she was a Skilled, right below gender, caste, and age. She was not impressed later, when all of her suggestions were of Skilled narrative.

They were a minority, really, movies and TV shows that were entirely created by Skilled people, but there were many mixed shows and movies, all of them made on the last two decades though, with important, multidimensional Skilled characters played by actual Skilled actors—unlike pretty much every other piece of media from the nineties and earlier. Black and blue bracelets were weird, but anything lighter was now becoming more and more common with time. And there were animated shows that had them all, the entire spectrum, even some lilac bracelets.

The black bracelets were always villains though. It made Eliza uncomfortable.

But still, she enjoyed their afternoons, exploring Maria’s suggestions, as if she was going through another country’s Netflix repertoire. She felt manipulated, really. That could be such a great space to ease diversity and inclusion into people’s minds, and instead, they just fueled segregation. So, she liked what they were doing even more, as if they were doing something rebellious. And it was. It was silly, but rebellious nevertheless. But that wasn’t the only reason Eliza liked their afternoons. She liked the stories, sure, but overall, she liked spending time with Maria. She clearly felt safe at her apartment, which was a huge compliment, but also, she was a really nice roommate. Not because she was considerate, but because even though she tried not to, she was messy. Eliza had been dreading the idea of her being the perfect guest, walking on eggshells all the time, but even though it embarrassed her, she couldn’t help to be messy. Eliza simply didn’t go into the guestroom anymore, because she feared she could step on something important. And whenever Maria cooked—she was a marvelous cook! —the kitchen became a mess. But Eliza didn’t mind, because she was messy too, and that only meant she didn’t need to keep all their common areas as neat as possible. They could eat on the couch and bring blankets that clearly didn’t belong in the living room and then leave them there, because if they were going to use them again in four hours, what was the point in putting them away?

It was also nice to have someone waiting for her, every day, after work. It was nice to be welcomed with a smile and a warm meal. It was nice, to have a friend that also happened to be very beautiful.

It was just a little bit weird how the purple bite was still on Maria’s neck.

An allergic reaction, Eliza wanted to think. Sometimes it happened. First bites were known to last more than the average week, sometimes even thrice as much, when the bodies weren’t too compatible. It could happen, even if it was weird. And it was, by far, the best alternative of the few possible explanations.

֍

At the police precinct, half an hour after Angelica left to pursue ADA Burr and William also ran out looking ashamed of himself, detective Gilbert de Lafayette was still fuming in his desk. He was glad William had told someone, especially someone as famous as Burr—they had never worked together on a case before, but the ADA in his old precinct often mentioned him—but then again, Angelica’s reaction to the whole affair made him furious. Angelica wasn’t even an omega, so he didn’t understand why every case was so personal to her. He wanted justice too; that was the whole point of him having the job he had. But that doesn’t mean that they had any sort of ownership over the situation. It didn’t even mean that they were the best choice. Maybe there was someone out there, someone like ADA Burr, that could make a better job, like maybe there were other detectives out there that could’ve been better at dealing with Miss Lewis and would’ve solved the case faster. They couldn’t know that. And sure, being robbed of a case in progress never feels good, but that doesn’t mean that it’s a bad thing for the victims. To them, as detectives and attorneys, it’s mostly a hit to their egos, unless the people taking over are incompetent. But someone with Burr’s reputation simply couldn’t be incompetent. And a Skilled judge would definitely be better for poor Miss Lewis than any good Ungifted judge.

“I’m sorry Angelica gave you so much shit for something you didn’t even do,” said Hercules, looking all apologetic and offering him a donut. He had been gone for a few minutes, without saying a word, and apparently, he had left to buy some.

Gilbert shook his head and accepted the donut easily. “I don’t really care. It mostly bothers me how mad she is. How can she be so obtuse?”

Hercules shrugged one shoulder, one side of his lips curving in a repentant grimace. “She just wants this case to be solved, _won_ , and she’s confident she can do it. She doesn’t have much trust in others though.”

“That’s very narcissistic of her!”

Hercules’s soft smile told him he agreed with him, but also that he understood her. It was suddenly a lot harder to stay angry.

Gilbert went back to his apartment with a knot in his stomach that he tried not to acknowledge. He went through his routine like nothing was wrong; cooked and called his parents, answered texts from friends and family, and even went as far as to put on a new show on Netflix, as if he could focus on it. He stopped it after seven minutes, not having registered a thing.

He knew it was stupid. He knew he was better off trying to ignore his feelings. But it was hard, when they grew more each day and turned him into a mess around his partner. Maybe if he didn’t have to see him every day, it would be easier to control. It would never grow into something more than an innocent crush. But it was already too late to correct that. He saw the man every day for less than a month, and now even thinking of him made his knees weak. Whenever he laughed, Gilbert would swoon off his feet. Whenever he looked at him like he had just figured something out, Gilbert’s breath got stuck on his lungs. And when he touched him, oh, when he touched him, Gilbert’s skin _burned_. He wanted so much but had to be content with so little. It was unfortunate, how they were coworkers and, well, so different to the world’s eyes. To the world’s eyes, an Ungifted alpha had no business with another, much less with a Skilled one. The world was not a kind place, and Gilbert would be damned before he did anything to make Hercules’s life more difficult.

He was glad when one of his best friends asked him if he could stop by to dine with him because he was lonely. He needed the distraction, and he had made a bit too much food, as usual.

After ten minutes or so, the distraction was over though. They had been joking and commenting his choice of cheese that he had poured over the potatoes when Louis put down his fork and softly asked: “Are you okay? You look… sad.”

Gilbert tried to smile, but he knew he couldn’t have accomplished more than a grimace. Louis was one of his oldest friends, and Gilbert knew he couldn’t lie to him, even if he wanted to. Besides, he really didn’t want to.

He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m in love,” he said, and then stuffed his mouth with potatoes and meat.

“Really?” he arched his eyebrows. “But that’s…”

“And I can’t tell him,” he mumbled.

Louis frowned. “Why not?”

Gilbert took some time chewing and then even more, drinking water and using a napkin way longer than necessary. “We work together. Besides, I don’t know if he’s queer, and on top of that, he’s an Ungifted. It’s like, everything’s against it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Lou. How’s your wife?”

Louis shrugged. “She’s okay, I guess. Visiting some family on the mountains this week. Her mother is sick. Nothing serious though. And Ad? How is she doing?”

“She’s okay. Being a cop suits her,” he grinned. “I’m proud of my little cousin.”

And with that, their conversation carried on. Gilbert’s shoulders felt a little lighter, if anything because having company for dinner was always nice. He didn’t mind living alone. He liked his space, and he enjoyed eating while watching or reading something, but he couldn’t complain about having company. He was comfortable alone, but there was something fulfilling in sharing a table with a loved one. With anyone, really, it was often fun; be it a coworker, a friend, or a family member. Talking and letting the food grow cold was always a pleasant experience.

֍

Shared meals and shared tasks and shared spaces were all the things that made a family whole and important. During those common times, they bonded over simple talk, providing both meaningless chatter filled with affection and insightful advice, sometimes carefully delivered, which promoted the use of it, or tactlessly so, which many times had the opposite effect. Still, the fact remained that lots of people awaited the time to go home so they could go and ramble about their busy days to their loved ones, and Aaron wasn’t the exception.

“The Ungifted DA’s office is going against me,” he told his husband that evening while he sat at the kitchen counter, watching Alexander peel and cut an onion.

“What? Why?” Alexander frowned, distractedly rubbed his eye with a hand and then closed them tightly as they filled with tears.

Aaron stood up. “Because they’re assholes, and I…” he wetted a paper towel and then pressed it against Alexander’s eyes, relieving the sting, “I’m kind of stealing one of their cases.”

Alexander sighed and stole the towel from Aaron’s hands, pressing harder. “What?”

“It never should’ve been theirs. Both the victim and the perpetrator are Skilled.”

He was finally done crying, but he wasn’t going back to the onions anytime soon. “Then why is it in the Ungifted court?”

Aaron decided to finish the task of cutting the onions for their dinner. It wasn’t the first time it happened. Alexander was a great cook, but he cried way too much whenever he dealt with onions. Aaron was faster with it. He was done in less than a minute, but then their conversation got interrupted by their son, who needed to interview them for a school thing. It was a small thing, but after that, dinner was ready, and they decided to avoid the subject while the kids could hear. It wasn’t until they were lying in bed together, each one doing something different—Aaron reading a novel and Alexander typing an email on his phone—that Alexander brought it up again.

“So? Why is the case on the Ungifted court?”

Aaron sighed. “Because they have an entire section dedicated to sex crimes, and we don’t. Still, that doesn’t mean we don’t know how to handle it. It’s ridiculous.”

“What? That can’t be real. They’re bending the rules to their convenience! Who knows how many times they’ve done it? What other crimes _must_ be handled by them, because of their so-called expertise?”

That was a terrifying thought and Aaron really didn’t feel like exploring it. He swallowed hard and scooted closer to his mate, folding himself around him. “Shut up, please.”

Alexander dropped a kiss on the top of his head and wrapped one arm around him somehow still being able to type with his one free hand, going back to the email he’d been writing. A few minutes went by in which none of them said anything, but it wasn’t their usual comfortable silence. It was maddening. And Aaron could feel himself fall into a spiral of darker thoughts that wanted to swallow him down completely.

“Why don’t we let the kids have a playdate?” asked Alexander then, effectively bringing him back to their bed. “You saw Philip at the school trip, babe. He loved showing off, and I get it.”

Aaron sighed. “You know I don’t mind him using it here or at Patsy’s, but…”

“Then they can have that playdate here. Let’s invite Patsy, Stephen and Eddie. The kid surely needs a friend. You heard what Philly said.”

Aaron bit his bottom lip, thinking back to it. “Yeah… okay, let’s invite them. But maybe we should wait until Mary gets better.”

Alexander hummed. “Yeah, good call.” Otherwise, Patsy probably wouldn’t come. Or maybe she would, but her parents would probably complain about it forever. Thomas would, at least. But that was one of the few down points of all four kids being friends—maybe five, one day, when Lucy gets older so Theo and Mary will include her more. The rest of the time, it was very convenient, even when it meant that they too were at the top of their list of sitters.

They had met Thomas Jefferson while they were in law school, and they hadn’t been exactly friends. Not at first. With Aaron, who had been the one to introduce everyone, since they were part of the same study group, things had gone mostly smoothly, but with Alexander, they clashed within two minutes of meeting each other. That tended to make get-togethers with all three of them an awkward matter, in which Aaron would spend most of his time trying to appease them, like a living stereotype, which in turn irritated him. But then, after a few impossible weeks, Thomas brought James Madison into the mix, and suddenly double dates not only were a possibility, they were actually an entertaining panorama.

Still, it had been a coincidence that they ended up having children almost at the same time. Mostly a coincidence. If one could ignore the alphas’ ridiculous competitiveness. Aaron couldn’t, unlike James, who pretended ignorance with a smile on his face. No, Aaron had asked Alexander about it, and that had led to a fight that then in turn led to fantastic make-up sex—no need for protection with your bond-mate when you’re already pregnant, right?

But the point remained that playdates were a common occurrence between the two families, and the Price’s were starting to join them more often. And sure, the house was usually a mess once they left, but it was all worth it for the smiles and the laughter and the way it all felt a little bit easier and a little bit more accepting, as the kids played with their skills without fear. Aaron however would forever be terrified of a drone or satellite discovering them, but he couldn’t deny that he still watched with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter isn't as long as the one from last week only because I actually cut it in half when it was about 8.4k words long (and it wasn't done yet!) The good part about that is that it means next week's chapter is longer and almost ready (which is great because my next week will be crazy and I wouldn't get much time to write!) So, let me know if you liked it by leaving a comment or a kudo! And to all those that already left kudos, thank you very much! You make sharing this worth it :)


	5. Theirs, yours, and our boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Social interactions can be tricky, but everything’s worse when the boundaries aren’t clear.

When William received a text from Aaron inviting him and his family over for an afternoon, he felt both, ridiculously anxious and happy. He genuinely liked Aaron and his husband, and Eddie constantly talked about Philip. They also had a young daughter that was Harriet’s age, although they weren’t close because they were in different classes, and an afternoon at their house sounded like an entertaining panorama for everyone. However, they wouldn’t be the only guests. Another couple he remembered from the meeting at Franklin’s office, and then another he had never met would be there as well, and William was understandingly stressed about it. He figured Thomas Jefferson didn’t like him, the other couple didn’t know him, and first impressions weren’t his forte. He was terrible at first impressions. But it would be good for Eddie, so they would go anyway, no matter how much it terrified him.

He decided to grab lunch outside of his lab for once, to try and distract himself, and was happy to have company to ease his mind with conversation. It was a problem when the conversation drifted towards what was, in fact, troubling him, but since Hercules stared at him with his friendly, encouraging face William never stood a chance.

“Eddie has a playdate with a couple of Skilled kids from his class…” he licked his lips. “I’m nervous. I mean, we’re going to Aaron Burr’s house, actually, and with that I’m fine. He’s nice, his husband too, and Eddie adores their kid. But there’s going to be more people and…” he shook his head, “I’m freaking out, man.”

“Damn… I wish I’d have some advice for you, Willie. I know meeting new people isn’t your favorite thing to do,” his chest shook with silent, repressed laughter, “but you’re better at it than what you think. You can be endearing.”

William sighed. “I doubt it. But thank you for trying to… wait,” he narrowed his eyes, “is that your third soda? Herc, what is going on with you?” It had taken him a while, but by now he was far better at reading his friends. The reason why he’d been caught off guard with the conversation turning on him, and the way Hercules’s words had been a little more strained, combined to his closed-off body language and the large amounts of sugar he was consuming spoke volumes.

Hercules’s shoulders tensed, and his smile grew wider. Aside from that, he looked perfectly relaxed, for a stranger. But William wasn’t a stranger. Still, he asked: “What do you mean?”

“You’re… distracted. Stressed, even, but it’s not about the case. What is it? Are you having…” he gasped, “are you having relationship problems?” He squealed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say as much as a name! Tell me all about it!” He cleared his throat. “I mean, if you want.”

Hercules stared at him for a moment, face frozen, and then burst in giggles. He placed one elbow on the table and folded one leg on top of the other, adopting a far more casual stance. He looked younger, somehow.

William pouted. “What’s so funny?”

Hercules shook his head. “I’m sorry, no, you’re, you’re right,” he cleared his throat. “Thanks, man. I… I think I could use some advice. Or maybe not advice, just…”

“I’ll hear you out.”

“Yes, thank you,” he scratched the back of his head and gave him a wide, tender smile. “I’m not… in a relationship at the moment. But I think I’m… I like someone. I really like someone, but…” he sighed, “they’re a Skilled.”

William arched his eyebrows. “And that… is a problem?”

“No! I mean,” he bit his bottom lip, face filling with an awkwardness that looked out of place in the normally composed detective, “I must be so… boring, you know? I don’t want to make it sound like a Skilled’s life is more _exciting_ , not in a positive way, but… well, they’re probably a lot more interesting,” he shrugged one shoulder. “What do I have to offer? What do I bring to the table?”

“Well, Hercules, I’m sure what brings Skilled couples together is not that they’re both Skilled…”

“But that has to do with it, doesn’t it? How many mixed couples do you know?”

None. There was one in Eddie’s class, but they never participated at school activities, so he’d never even met them. He grimaced.

“See?” he sighed. “I’m pretty sure there’s no way he would ever say yes. But if he did? If he did, and then got bored of me soon after, I… I don’t know what I’d do. I like him too much.”

William pouted. “Oh, Hercules… I’m sorry.” The rest of their lunch was a bittersweet thing, but they parted with smiles and the content that comes after meeting with someone who listens. Sometimes, that was more valuable than any good advice. Still, all gentle words were forgotten when it was time to ring the doorbell.

They were about ten minutes late, but it looked like the other two couples had been there for a while already. Nevertheless, their welcome was kind, and his wife and children looked almost relaxed, in spite of being at a huge house for the first time. In fact, as soon as they were inside, Aaron told Eddie that he could go up right away, to Philip’s room where Stephen and Patsy were, and the kid seemed thrilled with the idea, running upstairs as soon as his mother nodded her agreement. William couldn’t believe it. He was terrified, and his seven-year-old son was in his element. Then again, they were surrounded by Skilled. And yes, he felt bad as soon as the thought formed in his head.

“These are Michael and Helena, Stephen’s parents? You probably haven’t met them since they rarely go to school activities…”

“Oh.” The mixed couple. It was a little ironic that he only met them after his talk with Hercules. “Hi, it’s a pleasure.”

“Hi,” replied the woman, a low-level omega, smiling brightly. “Stephen speaks very highly of your son. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her husband, a mid-level beta who wore a red bracelet, only grunted and nodded as a greeting.

William didn’t really know what to do with himself, and simply turned to look at the stairs while Alexander yelled at the rest of the children to come down and say hello. He was distracted by all the noise coming from upstairs, but he still noticed the toddler on the corner of the room who seemed to be very interested in a toy that probably belonged to Philip and was dangerous for a kid that small. He bit his bottom lip, and almost said something, but he had no idea whose kid she was. Gratefully, Thomas Jefferson stirred and yelled at her in a way only a parent could:

“Hey Pat—Mary—Lucy! Lucy, leave that! Don’t… damn it,” he cussed under his breath and ran to get the toddler away from the dangerous toy she was inspecting.

“What did I do?” asked Mary, arching her eyebrows and placing one hand on her hip, staring at her father accusingly, while Theo tried to cover her laughter behind a hand. They had just arrived from upstairs, and Harriet was staring at them with a grin.

Thomas sighed, carrying the three-year-old giggling in his arms. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Alexander chuckled as he came back to the living room, coming to a stop behind his husband, hugging him. “Okay, who wants some snacks? I feel like you girls should take some snacks upstairs.”

“One bowl for you, and another for the others, okay?” added Aaron.

“But they’re not here. Why do we have to take a bowl to them?” asked Theo.

“You’ll do it out of the kindness of your heart, Theodosia.”

“Yes, papa.”

“Will, why don’t you come so you tell us which cookies Eddie and Harry like best?”

“Sure!” He knew a rescue mission when he saw one, although he hadn’t been sure he needed one. The pat on his knee that his wife gave him told him it probably was a good idea though, so he followed the couple to the kitchen surprised but grateful anyway.

“Okay…” Alexander opened a cabinet and started going through them. It looked like the entire candy aisle from Walmart in there.

“How’s it going so far?” Aaron asked him softly. “I know they’re all… a bit much. But the kids are having fun.”

William nodded. “Honestly, I thought it would be worse. I mean, I was sure from our last meeting that Jefferson didn’t like me, but it hasn’t been so bad. And… well, Helena is nice.”

“Michael is a little weird,” admitted Alexander in a whisper, as he filled a bowl with cookies, “but Steph is Philip’s best friend, so we kind of won him over.”

“He has a reason to be weird though,” said Aaron with a slight frown. “People can be… difficult, when they meet mixed couples. Most of the people in their lives cut them off after they got married. It affected him. When you grow up as part of a group that is constantly discriminated, and then are discriminated by that very same group that used to be your safety blanket, it’s…” he shook his head, “difficult. The only reason he comes here is because Philip won him over.”

“And because you kind of won Helena. She adores you,” added Alexander wearing a teasing smile. “Oh, crap, I didn’t ask you which cookies your kids like. Are these okay?”

William snorted. “They love them, just like pretty much every other kid in the world. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, let’s go, we can have cookies in the adult’s table too,” he winked and chuckled, “you look like you need them.”

“Even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t say no to cookies, Hamilton.”

Alexander grinned, and for a minute, William felt like he could do it. Like maybe everything would turn out okay, and he wouldn’t, for once, make a horrible first impression. Then of course he sat down on the living room across from Thomas Jefferson and he felt his resolve disappear. The man clearly loathed him. But Anne squeezed his hand, and for a while, the conversation was okay.

But then Alexander, clueless, good and yet vile Alexander, asked William what he knew about the ADA that was still fighting to keep her case—the case Aaron admitted being trying to steal—on the Ungifted court.

He sighed. “Angelica is awfully mad. I don’t think I ever saw her like that before.”

Thomas laughed bitterly as he grabbed the bottle of wine to pour some more on his glass. “At this point I’m not even surprised.”

“No,” William shook his head, “Angelica is not an anti-Skilled. She’s not. But it’s _her_ case. She met the victim at the very beginning…”

Thomas waved the hand that was still holding the bottle in a dismissive gesture. “That’s very nice and all, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

Michael stole the bottle from him before he could drop half the liquid, giving him hard look.

“What do you say, Mickey? What do you think?” Thomas asked him then.

“I think I like my job. Numbers, and angry people who don’t like pesticides for no other reason that they read a headline claiming they were bad, are never this complicated.”

“Yeah, but the case should or shouldn’t be on the Skilled court?”

“Skilled, of course. The victim and the perp are Skilled. An Ungifted jury simply don’t know what’s acceptable for us. They see a bracelet and they freak out. Can you imagine if you use your skill in front of one?”

His mate smacked him rather loudly on his thigh.

“Yes, but you’re different, honey. You’re cool. And weird. Don’t you remember the first time I met your parents? Who still don’t like me, by the way.”

“That’s because you’re awful at first impressions, love, not because you’re a Skilled.” She shook her head and sighed. “But, I agree with my husband, Will. I’m sorry, can I call you Will?”

“Sure!”

After that, Aaron was kind enough to drive the conversation away from those thorny issues, and he relaxed quite a lot, especially with his second glass of wine, and the sounds coming from upstairs, letting him know his children were definitely having a wonderful time. Not that William didn’t agree with their logic though. He had, after all, been the one to tell Aaron about the case, knowing perfectly well what he was causing. But he had done it in such a way he hadn’t needed to go and admit it. He was still terrified of Angelica and he didn’t know very well the people he was with. Some opinions it was best to keep away for a little while, especially, well, in a room where he was a minority. Mixed situations almost always were complicated, really, because the truth was, close interactions between Skilled and Ungifted were rather rare, and the social cues were kind of blurry.

֍

It can be difficult to stick to boundaries that aren’t clear. It can be difficult to restrain feelings and desires when you don’t know what is allowed and what isn’t. And for that, uncomfortable situations happen, where people need to stop what they’re doing and _talk_ , to try and define their own rules.

Maria had been living with Eliza for two full weeks when it happened to them.

She loved being at Eliza’s apartment. She felt a little bad because of how fast she went from being ‘Dr. Schuyler’ to just Eliza in her head, but everything had been fast about the arrangement. The minute she decided she would take her up on the offer, they had started moving to get her stuff out of her old place as soon as possible.

If she ever wanted to repay her, she needed to get a new job, because her last one certainly wasn’t paying. That was what had gotten her into all her current financial trouble, but if she just quitted, then they surely would never pay her, and she already had lost her second job two months ago—a little motel she was a receptionist at, which was closured by the health department. So, she had been stuck with only her waitressing job, with shitty tips, shitty costumers, and a shitty boss that was always trying to give her advances so at the end of the month her paycheck ended up being ridiculously low. But that was her fault also; she should’ve been stronger, just said no, but there were always more expenses and she could use the money so when he offered, she always said yes.

But at least she was out of her old apartment. That was a start. But she felt like there was no going forward after that, like she was stuck. Maybe that was foolish. It hadn’t been too long, but she was still feeling low because she still didn’t hear from any of the jobs she had been applying to.

“Don’t try to rush it, Maria,” said Eliza reasonably, smiling tenderly. “There’s no pressure on you paying me back, no interests either. Besides, you’re in the middle of a trial. You might need to get some days off. Are you sure you want to start a new job right now?”

She wasn’t. She was only sure that Eliza’s voice was the softest thing she ever knew. But she couldn’t be sure of that either, could she? For she had a hunch, that her lips were even softer.

It was perhaps one of the simplest things she’d ever done, leaning forward and pressing hers to those perfectly round lips. It was foolish, too. She knew it the moment Eliza leaned back, putting some distance between them without touching her.

“You don’t owe me anything, Maria. You know that, right? You don’t have to do this just because I helped you.”

“I’m not,” replied Maria, interrupting her. “I’m not. I just wanted to,” she bit her bottom lip, “I just wanted to kiss you. Nothing more.”

Eliza swallowed. “I’d hate to take advantage of you, Maria.”

“You’re not. I just think you’re beautiful, and kind, and brilliant… if you’re not interested in me, I understand. Things might be a little awkward, but…”

Eliza snorted a laugh, ironically. “Not interested? Maria, you’re gorgeous, and selfless, and so, so smart. Of course I’m interested. I’m just worried you’re not ready to let anyone near you.”

“I can let you. I trust you.” She held her hand. “Just a kiss.” She didn’t even want to cuddle. Maybe it was irrational, or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was perfectly logical to be uncomfortable with someone else’s arms around her, and it was also logical to long for a simple touch that could in no way reminiscent of the horrific experience that scarred her all too recently.

Perhaps it was that there was nothing in Eliza that could ever remind her of Reynolds. She wasn’t naïve enough to suggest that the power of love could heal her, when the one time she’d taken the subway and had caught a dim scent similar to Reynolds’ perfume had her sweating and in tears to the point that she had to get out of there and walk the fifteen blocks there were still left of the way, having trouble breathing. But, as her lips touched Eliza’s—a thing that never happened with Reynolds—she felt calm. It was nothing but a brush, it could barely be considered anything, but it made her feel good, and safe, and cared for. It was as nice as having Eliza for a roommate usually was.

“I used to think that there were no tolerant Ungifted,” admitted Maria, after they finished watching their daily Skilled movie.

Eliza frowned.

“You,” she held her hand, “changed my mind. Thank you.”

Eliza blushed intensely, lost in Maria’s intense gaze for a moment. “Maria…” she swallowed, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry the world wasn’t kind to you.” She pushed a lock of Maria’s hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry we didn’t meet sooner.”

Maria squeezed the hand she was still holding. “Don’t apologize for making my world better, silly.” She bit her bottom lip. “This is okay, right? I mean, _just_ this?”

“Of course!” Eliza rushed to reassure her. It worried her that she could ever, unknowingly, pressure Maria into doing something she wasn’t ready for, not whatever slow pace she chose. Slow was alright. She didn’t mind. She enjoyed her company too much, which had been somewhat a surprise. When she invited her to move in, it hadn’t been with that possibility in mind. She hadn’t even hoped they could be friends, not soon, not without a little effort. But being with Maria was pretty much effortless. It was as easy as breathing, talking to her, being mesmerized by her beauty and thoughtfulness. She was, perhaps, the kindest person Eliza had ever met, and her heart swelled with both, disbelief and pride, that apparently, she wanted to be by her side.

It just made her so happy, to know that Maria felt safe by her side. Maybe she was being silly, falling in love so early. Surely, she was nothing but a first step for her, to feel ready to interact with other people, and there was nothing special about it beyond how little of a threat Eliza was, but even that felt like a compliment. Every time Maria stared into her eyes and smiled brightly at her, it felt like a compliment, and Eliza fell a little harder.

She wouldn’t tell Maria that she loved her. Not yet. But she could admit it to herself without an ounce of regret. Admit it out loud, to anyone else, was not the same thing.

She played with the idea of keeping it a secret for about four hours. Then, she had to acknowledge that she couldn’t. Even if there hadn’t been a case involved, she would have had to tell her. Big sisters were nosy, but they also were the best at giving advice, because they know their siblings better than everyone else. That was just the general case, regardless of castes and genes. Even the Skilled were the same. Aaron Burr could confirm it.

֍

Aaron Burr and his sister had a routine. Ever since they lived on the same town again, they met for lunch every Monday. It was their little ritual, to wish each other a good week.

“I heard you were starting trouble at your job,” commented Sally.

Aaron sighed. “I just tried to fix something that was messed up, and now the Ungifted DA’s office declared war on us.”

“I guess it doesn’t help that they never liked the Skilled court to begin with.”

“You’re not wrong. But let’s not talk about that. Please. It’s all I can think about anyway. How’s your wife?”

Sally’s smile turned a little tense. “She’s alright. None of the boys have dropped out of college yet, so…” she shrugged.

Aaron snorted. “They won’t. They’re smart boys.”

Sally nodded. “I know. But Theo isn’t listening. She’s worried sick about them. I mean, John had been doing alright, but he got into a fight last week protecting Freddie, and now…” she shook her head, “well, it’s all a mess.”

“Shit, I can imagine. But, they got into a fight? What happened?”

“The Buffers happened. There’s a whole fraternity associated to them.”

“You’re kidding.”

“And of course, they don’t get any type of punishment.”

“But that’s…! How is that even possible? You should sue!”

“Believe me, we considered it. But it’s not going to get us anywhere. It would only jeopardize the boys’ future.”

It wasn’t the first time Aaron heard that phrase. Both Sally and Theo often used it, ever since the boys were little, and it only turned more common after they got their bracelets. Alpha boys were already considered impulsive and aggressive, but alpha boys with green and red bracelets on were basically considered a menace.

Alexander and Aaron had been relatively lucky so far, with the kids’ school being so progressive, but they were still so young. Philip was on second grade and Theo was on kindergarten. He couldn’t help to be terrified of the future, and he wondered, once again, if having another baby really had been a sensible choice.

Of course he wanted another baby. He wouldn’t go and say pregnancy was fun, but it had its highpoints. And even if he hated conforming into any stereotypes, it was kind of nice having Alexander constantly shower him with food and attention, and he loved that his kids were enthusiastic about having another sibling, and he loved the idea of buying even smaller clothes once again. He liked all that. He missed it. He didn’t miss the dirty diapers or the bathroom practice or the vaccinations or all the crying before one could figure out what was wrong—or when there was nothing wrong, but still. He didn’t miss the worry. And he knew that worry would only grow with time.

Because the truth was, in every step of the way, the journey seemed to be more complicated for the Skilled.

֍

“Are you kidding me?”

The girl groaned.

John grabbed the wallet she hadn’t been able to steal, opened it and counted the cash. “There’s literally nothing in here for you. I don’t keep my credit cards on my wallet, genius, and in cash I had seven dollars. You would’ve stolen my wallet for my library card, my driver license, and my ID. You would’ve screwed me over for seven dollars.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I didn’t know that! You work in a fancy building and wear fancy clothes; how was I supposed to know you’re broke?”

“I’m not broke, I literally just told you… you know what? That doesn’t matter. I can’t believe you’re this ungrateful.”

She rolled her eyes. “Get off your high horse, mister, you helped me once and bought me a few sandwiches. That doesn’t turn you into my hero.”

“Maybe it should. Many others do that kind of thing for you?”

She looked away.

John sighed, running a hand through his hair and shifting his weight in his feet. “Forget about it. I don’t want that, I haven’t earned such a title. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything, but… a little gratitude could be nice. Or just knowing that you could just ask me for money and I would give it to you, instead of trying to steal from me.”

She licked her lips nervously. “You’d do that?”

“Of course I would!”

“Would you give me twenty grand?”

“Why would you need that much? Are you in trouble?”

“Would you?”

“If you were in trouble, I’d think about it. But I’m a lawyer. I’d try to figure something out first. I’m not going to lie. That’s a lot of money.” He gave her a tentative smile. “Do you really need that kind of money?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t. Idiot.”

Maybe he was an idiot, trying to reason with her. But he didn’t think so. He could see that she was smart, but she hadn’t been given many opportunities to do differently. He understood. He understood that sometimes, people need more than a push, more like a shove on the right direction to really make it. Sensible choices aren’t always obvious, and even when they are, they often aren’t easy. They surely usually aren’t the easiest ones. What’s even worse is that it’s never easy to tell, because they aren’t necessarily the toughest ones either. He had learned that the hard way, and even now, he still had the habit of picking the one option that sounded impossible, just because if it was so hard, it was probably right. It had been his husband the one that taught him he was wrong, among other things. But Jonathan Bellamy was always teaching him new things. It was a big part of their relationship, really. Although John liked to think that Bellamy simply went around teaching other people how to be better, children and grownups alike. He used to dislike the usually arbitrary labor laws which many times forbade Skilled to work on their preferred fields, and for that he also disliked those that were “lucky” enough to do so, in spite of being Skilled. He used to think that, out of loyalty, principles and solidarity, they shouldn’t take jobs that were prohibited for those with darker bracelets.

Then he’d met Bellamy.

Jonathan Bellamy had been twenty-three and only starting on a job when they met, at Aaron’s birthday party, all the way in Boston. John had ben visiting Alexander for the weekend, since they barely saw each other then, both studying in different states, and honestly, it was love at first sight. Jonathan was handsome, gentle, and funny, and even if he was only a white bracelet, he was still a Skilled, and more important, an alpha no ashamed of showing he was attracted to John. The one problem about him was that he was a teacher, in a mixed elementary school.

Not even orange bracelets can be elementary school teachers.

After he learnt that, he spent the rest of the night trying to pick a fight with him, but Bellamy never responded. Instead, he tried to figure out what was wrong, and once he did, he apologized to John. Which in turn made him feel like an asshole.

He no longer has a problem with people engaging on their preferred jobs. Sure, it was unfair. But they weren’t out there actively perpetrating the unfair laws. They were merely doing their best with what they were given. Now he wasn’t embarrassed to admit that if black bracelets couldn’t practice the law, he, a blue one, still would. Because he had his own responsibilities and aspirations that he could only achieve through his hard work. And he was narcissistic enough to believe that he could do things that no one else would.

And maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong. An individual’s experiences shape their perspective and the way they interact with the rest of the world. And whereas their experiences may not be isolated and unique, they still aren’t universal. Two people could have the same idea, given certain circumstances, but those could never be just two random people, they would necessarily share determined experiences and traits. When, out of two individuals, one lacked expertise in an area, then they simply weren’t the best choice to perform a particular task no matter their capacities.

That was why Aaron was so certain that he would make a better job than Angelica Schuyler ever could when it came to the Lewis’s case.

“Who are you?” asked Miss Lewis, frowning in confusion when she found him outside her door.

“I’m an ADA, like Angelica Schuyler. But better.”

The girl folded her arms over her chest and didn’t invite him in. “Why better?”

“Because I don’t work for _them_. I want to take your case to the Skilled court.”

She licked her lips. “What…?”

“My name is Aaron Burr,” he extended his right hand for her to shake. “I work for the Skilled court, which means that everyone, from the guards to the judge and the jury, are Skilled. I believe that it is important that your case is evaluated by your actual peers. An Ungifted jury…” he shook his head, “could focus on the wrong details.”

She eyed his wrist before shaking his hand briefly, her grip weak. “The police officer and the Ungifted attorney told me that I shouldn’t worry so much. That him being an alpha and me being an omega would make my actions against him look like a defense.”

“Miss Lewis, I’m an omega too. And we both know that is a detail many Ungifted stop caring about when this,” he pointed at his bracelet, “is darker than red.”

Maria’s was green. She swallowed. “You’re married.” There was a ring on his finger, but no bite on his neck.

“Yes,” he nodded. “And I have an omega daughter and an alpha son, and none of those things will matter once they turn eleven.”

She bit her bottom lip, hesitated for a moment, and then finally took a step back to let him in. “I’m listening. Have you ever taken any cases like mine before?”

“Did you ask Miss Schuyler the same thing?”

She hadn’t. She winced.

Aaron sighed and watched her with a sympathetic smile, then pointed at her neck with his chin. “Let me help you with that.” He didn’t comment on how strange it was that she still had it after almost three weeks.

“I don’t think that’s possible. It’s too purple, I…”

Aaron shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’ve covered bites that dark before. Come here, let me try.”

“Okay…” She was sure it was a lost cause, and the idea of having a stranger touching her neck wasn’t appealing, but there was something about his voice and smile that made her feel safe. So, she let him work, and after he suggested she used her phone’s camera to watch what he was doing, she was fascinated by his careful, efficient strokes.

“You’re really good at that,” she commented softly.

Aaron smirked. “I’ve been covering my own neck for over a decade, so…”

She stared at him in shock. “What?”

Aaron sighed through his nose. “There aren’t many omegas in my work. I deal with strangers all the time, and I don’t see why they should be able to tell right away that I’m an omega in a long stable relationship with an alpha. That’s no one’s business but ours. So, I cover it.”

“Oh… I see.” She was still trying to wrap her head around it. All her life, she had been taught that an omega ought to be proud if they ever got a bite on their neck, and it should always be on display. That’s why the norm for a bonded omega was to always wear their hair up or short, so the neck was always showing.

“Many people don’t get it because they’re not used to it. But if they give it much thought, and they still don’t like it, then there’s something wrong with them.” He finished off and started storing away her makeup. “Romantic relationships should be partnerships. And there’s no place for marking in a partnership. That’s ownership. And I did not sign up for that when I got married.”

“That sounds nice and all, but I don’t think there are many alphas out there who would agree.”

“I know my fair amount. My best friend is an alpha. My husband is an alpha. My sister in law is an alpha. And they all agree that marking is wrong. But even if there weren’t, that wouldn’t make it right. Just because many people believe in something doesn’t make it good. A thing is only good when it’s healthy, and something that takes you into a category different than the average person walking on the street usually isn’t.”

Maria realized then that, in a way, bites and bracelets were pretty similar. And they both sucked. She thanked the man again but didn’t give him an answer, and he told her that was okay, to take her time. But that only confused her further. She wasn’t used to having options. Ever since the police showed up at that hospital room she felt like she was living someone else’s life. Her life just didn’t usually work like that. Bad things happened, and that was it. There was no quest for justice, no people feeling sorry for her, no one out there reaching out a hand to help.

It was all so wonderful, and she was just so scared.

She had aged out of the system and was used to being on her own, of having to figure out everything alone. People usually got upset when she asked for help, so she had stopped doing that many years ago. She had found a shitty job right out of high school and a shitty apartment and had tried to save some money, but it had been difficult. She didn’t know what it was like to get birthday presents, or to go shopping without a tight budget, or to get new clothes when hers were still functional. Before she moved in with Eliza, she had never imagined having hot chocolate for breakfast and ice cream for dessert every day. It felt like a dream. But making any sort of decision at the moment felt like waking up. If the trial went wrong, if the creep of Reynolds walked out, then she just knew he would get back at her. It was honestly a miracle he hadn’t tried to hurt her so far, since he was on bail, and she was certain it was merely so he would look good on the trial. She had always been scared of him, even before the attack. But when she asked a colleague whose brother was a cop if there was a way to keep her landlord away from her place—she was sure him having a key and using it without telling her had to break some kind of law, right? —they simply asked her why she was so scared if he was only a red bracelet. _Only_ , the Ungifted said, because hers was darker. They didn’t even know what she could do, much less what he could do, but they immediately decided he represented no danger to her.

He almost killed her, the day he finally attacked her.

“Baby?” called Eliza, staring at her worriedly from the door of the guestroom.

“That other attorney,” she mumbled, eyes fixed on the flowery pattern of the covers, “he’s… he’s like me. He’s a Skilled, and an omega, and…” she bit her bottom lip, “I just feel like he really gets me, Eliza.”

“What?” she fully entered the room and went to sit on the bed, in front of her. “But Maria…”

She raised her head to look her in the eyes. All doubt was gone from her mind. “He’s _like_ me. He gets it. I’m sorry, I know she’s your sister, and I’m sure she’s amazing at her job, but Mr. Burr had some very convincing arguments.”

“Like what?”

“Like the jury.” She stood up and started nervously pacing around. “You’re different, Eliza. You, and detective Mulligan, you’re exceptions in a very dark world. Normally, the Ungifted are… prejudiced. They’re mean. They make me nervous. And I know _I_ make them nervous too.” She stopped by the window, looking outside with a distracted air. “A Skilled jury won’t. They won’t bat an eye when they hear I used my skill to defend myself. They won’t see _me_ as a threat.”

“Oh, Maria…” Eliza didn’t want to admit that she was right. She refused to believe it. Maria was sweet and tender and whoever feared she could be dangerous was delusional. But she knew it happened. She wanted to believe Maria was exaggerating, but the pain on her face was real, and it broke Eliza’s heart. She nodded. “Okay. I understand. I’ll ask Angelica to back off.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” She walked to stand beside her. “I just want what’s best for you.” She cupped her face in her hands and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

Convincing Angelica wouldn’t be easy, but she would do it. She would do it that very same night, over the phone.

“Eliza…”

“You said you’re on her side. Well, this is what _she_ wants, Angelica.”

The ADA didn’t like it. Of course she didn’t. She didn’t like having her sister against her, and she didn’t like having her case taken off her hands. But she wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t that egocentric either. She knew it wasn’t about her abilities or competence as a lawyer, and she understood that she wasn’t the one risking everything. She didn’t like to admit it, ever, but most Ungifted were extremely prejudiced towards the Skilled. Now, normally she knew how to deal with people’s prejudices, but this case was about a different set of opinions and views. And maybe she _could_ convince the jury, but the thing here was that she shouldn’t have to. That on the Skilled court, no one would need to hear how the victim’s response was justified or reasonable. Or maybe they would. She couldn’t know for sure. But if so many Skilled were telling her that their odds were better with a Skilled jury, then she seriously should listen. If even her own sister was telling her so, she would listen.

It made her anxious, the idea that everything would be out of her control, but she didn’t show it. She simply walked up to ADA Burr the next day and said: “You better not blow this case, Burr.”

Aaron smirked. “Don’t worry, councilor. I won’t.”

Oddly, she believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what your favorite parts have been so I can give you more of them in the future! ;)


	6. Children that aren't children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One must always keep in mind that the world you leave behind will be the home to today’s children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Discussion of abortion.

Two weeks went by, and the case was solid. The date for the first hearing was approaching, but Aaron wasn’t worried. He was good at his job. He had to be good to be there. Opening closed doors was never easy, but he’d gotten used to it by now. Being an omega with a black bracelet, he ended up being “the first one of his kind” in many fields. He was the first one to make it to the debate team, the first one to make it into the soccer team, the first one to make into president of the student’s council. All through his life, people took him aside and told him he was different, but a _good_ different. That was, so long as they didn’t know what it was that he could do. Once they did, they usually questioned all his achievements. That was only the second reason he kept it mostly hidden, but a powerful one nevertheless. Letting people in was always difficult for that very same reason. So when he did, he never let them go.

However, some worry regarding the case could’ve been handy one morning, so he could’ve blamed it for the sudden vertigo that overcame him in the middle of the kitchen.

“Aaron? Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just a little dizzy, that’s all…”

Alexander didn’t seem appeased by that. “Maybe you should sit down.”

The fact that Aaron didn’t argue only confirmed his fears that it was something serious. Aaron was careful, yes, but he wasn’t hypochondriac. Everything was spinning, and he had to grab the counter to stop himself from falling off the stoop.

“Honey?”

“I’m okay. I’m okay, but… dizzy. Really dizzy.”

Alexander bit his bottom lip. “This the first time it happens?”

Aaron took a deep breath. He kept his eyes wide open because closing them made it all worse. “This bad? Yeah. It’s… it’s weird.”

Alexander didn’t try to say it was probably nothing. He didn’t say a thing, actually. But they were both comforted by knowing that Aaron already had a doctor’s appointment for the next week. And it wasn’t just a routine checkup either; Dr. Eustis presumed they could find out their sex by now, and also, well, checkups with Aaron were always a little bit more than routine. Everything had always been okay, but the fear was always there for them.

“If it doesn’t pass soon, maybe you shouldn’t drive.”

Aaron bit the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t going away. It wasn’t. His grip on the counter tightened, and his knuckles went white. He tasted blood in his mouth, by his teeth. “Yeah, no, I definitely shouldn’t drive.”

“Do you want me to call Dr. Eustis?”

“I have to go to court today.”

“Okay. Not today. But not next week either. Let me check if he has time tomorrow or the day after.”

Aaron hummed affirmatively. “Okay.”

Alexander nodded and immediately made the call. He didn’t leave the kitchen though, his eyes never left Aaron’s form. With each breath deeper than the last, he looked as if it was finally passing, but the alpha’s heart was still racing. He made an appointment for the very next day, even though the time was a little complicated for both of them. He sighed, knowing Aaron would be less than amused with it, but he was worried.

“Do you think Sally will have some time tomorrow, to pick up the kids at school?”

Aaron’s face told him he knew exactly what that meant. But he didn’t argue. “Sure. I’ll call her… or, no, can you call her? She’s going to worry, and…”

“Of course,” said Alexander, right away. Aaron looked tired, and that only worried him further. He was dumb like that, and Aaron knew it, that Alexander was bad at handling the people he loved getting sick. The first time Philip got a cold, he almost had a panic attack. But he’d gotten a lot better at it, with some practice and Aaron’s infinite patience to tell him time and time again that they could get through whatever life threw at them, because they had made it that far.

And Alexander believed it now. Aaron was an amazing liar but there was no one Alexander trusted more. Still, going to the doctor was always stressful to him. Ever since he’d been little. It brought way too many unpleasant memories, from way too many unpleasant episodes that overlapped in his head. Even now, as a full-grown adult with two kids and more than one happy event in a hospital and in an office just like that one, he still tensed whenever he entered it. But he tried to look calm, for Aaron. He tried all through the ultrasound and checkup, but by the time they went to sit across the doctor in his desk, his nerves were eating him from the inside out.

Aaron wanted to be calm, but it was difficult with Alexander so jittery by his side.

“You look pale, doctor,” Aaron stated the obvious, being the one person that looked prepared for anything in the room. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” he licked his lips, “I honestly don’t know how we could miss this,” said Dr. Eustis.

“Miss what?”

The doctor took a deep breath. “First of all, I want you to know that so far, your baby is okay. You both are. But, things might complicate.”

“Why?”

“You both know that Aaron is Rh-negative, which is why we gave him shots of Rh immune globulin in the past, yes?”

“Yes, I remember,” said Aaron with a jerky nod.

“Well…” Eustis licked his lips, “somehow… you remember that if your baby had Rh-positive blood, which since Alexander does, it’s about a 70% chance, and the baby’s blood leaks into yours, your immune system will start to produce antibodies against it.”

“Yes, I remember. I also remember what could happen if that…” Aaron went quiet.

“So far, we’re pretty sure you both are okay, but you do have an excess of amniotic fluid and I believe that’s because your baby has anemia. We can control this. We cannot go back in time to keep your body from producing the antibodies, but we can do our best to prevent it from causing any further damage to either of you. This doesn’t mean that your baby won’t be a healthy kid. We’ll just need to be more careful.”

Aaron was always careful. Every second of every day, he was careful, and yet this still had happened. Alexander rubbing his thumb in circles in his wrist was the only thing keeping him from spiraling into panic. He swallowed hard and nodded once, knowing perfectly well that if he hadn’t damped, the scent of omega in distress would probably fill the entire building floor. Then the rubbing turned into tapping, and he followed it; inhaling for three seconds, keeping the air in for other three, and the exhaling for three seconds. Then repeat. It didn’t work as fast as usual, but eventually it did.

“You’re going to be okay,” whispered Alexander once they were outside, making their slow way to their car.

Aaron squeezed his hand. “Yes. We’re all going to be alright.” He didn’t say all the things he wanted to say. He didn’t say that maybe this third pregnancy had been a mistake after all. He didn’t ask whose fault it was. He didn’t say it was most definitely his.

And yet, when Alexander stopped walking and pulled him in for a tight hug, he realized his husband still had a way of knowing all that. He could always tell when he was having dark thoughts, one way or another. It had always surprised Aaron, who was supposed to be the observant one of the two. People always said that, since he was considerably quieter. But it wasn’t that. He was just careful. And sometimes, that meant he got lost in his head and missed many details that Alexander never did. He took a deep breath, focusing on his husband’s familiar and always comforting scent, and noticed the fear there too.

They were a team. They had always been a team, and they were together on this as well. They were together in their fear, in their worry and in their commitment, and Aaron needed to start thinking like a team player again instead of running into his own terrified mind. Not only he was being foolish, he was also being selfish.

“I’d offer to drive, since I’m not feeling dizzy anymore, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

Alexander snorted and shook his head, separating slowly but keeping an arm steady around Aaron’s waist. “It’s okay. You should text Sally. She’s probably worried.”

Aaron nodded, and as soon as they got inside the car, he got to it. He didn’t go into details. He knew she had done even more research than him during his first pregnancy and would know exactly what to infer from his short text. After she told him the kids were entertained watching a movie, he thanked her and turned off his phone, knowing he had some time to panic alone with his husband. And panic, they did. In silence, mostly, but after years together they knew exactly how to read their moves and faces. Back at home, the atmosphere wasn’t lightening. They were okay, but they weren’t, and Aaron didn’t know what to do with himself.

Maybe the third pregnancy was a mistake. They had been okay, the four of them. Their house was nice and big, but they used every corner, and they had more than enough trouble as it was already. Their two kids that were most definitely not a mistake, that they planned carefully just like the last one. It wasn’t twenty weeks yet, the little thing that was apparently a boy, and Aaron had spent almost three years thinking it over. Back when they started thinking about children, Alexander had been the one to suggest three. Aaron had never thought of it, less alone a number, but he liked the number three. Both he and Alexander were the youngest out of two, and they both had agreed that one more could only be better, but maybe they had been wrong. Maybe.

Was it too late to regret it now? A part of himself thought so. Another part loudly said it was never too late. And another one, a quieter one, simply thought back to the room they had prepared already.

They hadn’t bought many things, not yet; it was too soon, anything could happen, and they hadn’t even known their gender, but they had cleared a room for them and had started making plans. They had made those plans in between casual discussions on whether they were sure or not to do it, while fantasizing, all hypothetical, but it had stuck. The décor for the walls, the toys, the furniture. And many things they had kept, Philip and Theodosia’s, were there in that room too, things they had willingly donated.

They were okay. The doctor was clear on that. And he had done his research, back when he first got pregnant, and then again, and then again when he was still studying the possibility of having a third kid.

A third kid. The thing he was pointlessly trying to get to, with his hand over his belly, was not a kid yet. It wasn’t. But it could be. The possibilities were endless, right then. But Aaron’s life wasn’t in danger. If that were the case, the analysis would be different. But he wasn’t. And for that, he would do his best to help that little thing inside him grow into what he and his family had already idealized so much.

“Maybe I should stop working a little sooner,” he muttered, pouring sugar into his cup of tea.

“That sounds reasonable,” agreed Alexander, doing his best to sound neutral.

Aaron snorted.

“You know I won’t tell you to stop working right away. I know that I can’t ask you that. But…” he shrugged one shoulder, “after today, I honestly want you to stay in bedrest where my eyes can see you until I can be sure you both are okay.”

“We are okay right now.”

“But it can change so fast…” Alexander cupped Aaron’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m sorry. I’m scared.”

“I’m scared too.”

“I know.”

Aaron stared into Alexander’s dark, beautiful eyes, that always seemed to captivate him, and noticed the skin on skin touch in his neck that now he almost took for granted. He smiled. “So, Dr. Eustis said it’s a boy, huh?”

They were okay. And they would be okay, against all odds, as always, because Aaron said so. He couldn’t touch the little thing’s skin to order him that, and he’d never tried it on himself, but he decreed it and made up his mind. Because the happiness that filled them when they confirmed he was pregnant was still there, and for that, and the happiness that would come, they would be okay.

֍

Pregnancies are a big deal. They are, after all, the formation of a new life, interrupting another person’s life. In order to prepare them for an unkind, hostile world, the person that takes the task to carry them around until they’re almost ready—because human babies aren’t yet ready—to live on their own, must take many precautions and be aware at all times of their condition. Then, once the pregnancy is over, they must decide if they will continue to care for them until they’re fully independent, or they won’t. Many do, and many don’t. Many seek pregnancies having that care for a goal, and then there are others that give it up for one reason and another. Then, there are those that weren’t seeking it, but, once finding themselves in that situation, they still take on that major responsibility. Many argue it is their duty, but nature knows nothing of duty. Nature only knows chaos. So maybe, when a person’s mind goes out of control, it’s only natural. How could it not? When big decisions need to be made, feeling fear only means the person cares.

“Maria? What’s wrong?” asked Eliza one afternoon she arrived home to find her roommate in tears.

“I’m pregnant,” she sniffed, “and it’s got to be _his_.”

Eliza gasped, a million conflictive feelings inside her. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew what she could do, so she went and hugged her tightly.

That explained it all, really, even though Eliza had pushed the thought far away from her mind when it first occurred to her. The everlasting bite, the nausea, the cramps. It was all understandable now.

Maria buried her face on the crook of Eliza’s neck and sobbed quietly. “I’m so scared. This could tie me to him forever.”

“No! Honey, that’s not going to happen. He can’t… that’s not, that’s not going to happen.” She cupped her face to stare into her eyes. “I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen, okay? Don’t make any decision thinking of that.”

But to make any decision, all facts needed to be taken into consideration. And for Maria, who always had little choice, it was overwhelming. It was scary, and awful, and many other things.

It also meant she wouldn’t be alone anymore.

She hadn’t been alone for weeks. No matter how long Eliza stayed away in the hospital, Maria never felt lonely in that big apartment. But it was different, and she knew it. She new some people had kids when they felt lonely. She hadn’t made that decision. She hadn’t sought it. And to think of the circumstances which made it possible would never, ever, make her happy. She would never be grateful. But that didn’t mean that every single one of the many consequences of that terrible event ought to be bad. That one thing that had the potential of changing everything, that _would_ change everything if she allowed it, might change things for the better.

Eliza told her she had some time to think it through. She didn’t try to do the math, much less go on the internet and try to figure out what it meant. She didn’t need sizes and descriptions and opinions crowding her mind. It wasn’t about that. It was about the possibilities.

Her life hadn’t been good. And she knew that if she dared to bring a creature into the world, and then decided not to care for them, she was condemning them into the same hell she went through. She wouldn’t do that. Never.

But if she did? If she dared to care for it?

She was only a waitress, and she couldn’t go and impose Eliza with a baby at her place. If she had to find another place to live, support herself, and that other thing, she probably would collapse one way or another. They were something, but they weren’t exactly lovers, and they had barely met. How could she ask of her such a thing? To stay there, to help her? Because Maria didn’t think she could do it alone. But if Eliza dared, if Eliza didn’t mind or if she showed any sign that she would perhaps even like the idea, Maria would go through with it without a doubt.

She would go through with it. It shocked her, how easily the thought came to her, and it only scared her a little. She had cried for hours already, and her mind had gone through every scenario there was. But if Eliza said yes, if Eliza dared to stay by her side while she figured out where the hell was her life going, then she would go through with it, and she would have a baby.

֍

Eliza called her sister through Facetime, because she needed her to see her face while they discussed it. Because through the phone, it was always too easy to try and distant oneself from a conversation, especially the tough ones, and that one would be tough. For Eliza, at least, it would be tough. It was damn scary too. She exposed the facts as fast as she could, to keep her voice under control.

Her sister wasn’t that moved at first. Her work had turned her into stone and nothing shocked her, but Eliza had no doubt she still cared.

“Eliza, I’m not on the case anymore. I can’t—”

“Angie, please,” insisted her sister. “You have to do something. You have to make sure that monster isn’t going to be near them.”

“So she’s keeping it?”

Eliza nodded.

Angelica took a deep breath. “Okay.” She nodded. “Okay. Don’t worry, I’ll… I’ll do something.” Her possibilities were little, though. She wasn’t on the case anymore, and she hadn’t spoken with ADA Burr since she gave it up. She didn’t even have his number, but Maria did, thus it was possible to arrange a casual meeting in a café downtown instead of his office, which she hoped to never visit again.

“We need to make sure he doesn’t get any parental rights,” she told him as soon as they were seated. “That’s the kind of case _I_ know how to handle. Do you, Mr. Burr? Have you ever dealt with something like this in the past?”

Aaron took a deep breath, not wanting to answer, but he knew he had to anyway. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. He was so tired. He wanted to help Maria. He wanted to do his job, but he was so tired. And thinking about another omega’s complicated pregnancy was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t feel like fighting about it with Schuyler either. The waiter was taking so long with his pear juice. “Do you want it?”

Angelica seemed startled by that. “What?”

“I could talk to the DA. I’m sure he wouldn’t see a problem. I believe it’s important the jury is conformed by other Skilled, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t be the prosecutor.”

Angelica frowned. “Why don’t you want it anymore?”

Aaron sighed, regretting it already. He should’ve told Fersen about it. “It’s not that I don’t want it…”

She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin up defiantly.

What was the point in lying? Maria would ask as well, and he would be honest to her. He might as well start with her sister in law. “I’m just tired. I have other things in my mind and I really don’t need a case like this.”

Angelica’s blood boiled. “You’re kidding, right? You have other things on your mind? You don’t want a case like _this_? What the hell is a case like this? How does a pregnancy change the game so much?”

“A pregnancy can change many things, especially when they’re high risk pregnancies, like mine,” he snapped without thinking. He wanted to slap himself later, but the damage was done, and the alpha was staring at him like he had grown a second head. He sighed. “I just… I’m sorry, that was rude. It’s just that I was given some complicated news yesterday and I’m… I’m worried.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You’re pregnant? Are you okay?”

Aaron shrugged one shoulder, smiling ruefully. “I’m… I could be better. I was better yesterday. But I’m fine. I think I might take a maternity leave quite early on, though, so it’s probably for the better if you take over the case.”

“Yes, of course, I get it.” She didn’t really get it. She didn’t know Burr. She didn’t know if he had a mate or more children or if he had planned that pregnancy or not. All she knew was that he was an omega and he wore a wedding band on his finger, but there was no visible bite on his neck. She cleared her throat. “If you need anything…”

“Thank you, Miss Schuyler, but really, you don’t have to worry about it. Just, take over the case if you want it, and win.”

“I will.”

The strength in her voice and stance told Aaron that it hadn’t been a mistake. He wasn’t eager to explain the situation to his boss, and he knew that some of his colleagues would give him shit about it, but he still felt like Angelica Schuyler was the right person to do it. He certainly wasn’t anymore; his nerves would never allow him to work at his best in a case like that.

He wanted peace, for a little while. He knew it was selfish, but if his husband had taught him something in their years together it had been that it was okay to be a little selfish from time to time, for the right reasons. And Aaron considered his health and his unborn kid fitted in that category. He wasn’t on the right state of mind. And he owed to his clients that, to say the least. They deserved someone that would do their best to expose the facts and be convincing enough to win what needed to be won. Then, he was lacking in strength, interest and focus. And if he couldn’t concentrate into being convincing, he was doing more harm than good to the people he was supposed to be helping. He was certain of that. But he still felt bad when he heard Miss Lewis at his back, two days later, inside a store in which he’d stopped on his way home on a whim after one look at the shopfront.

“Maria? Hello, what a coincidence. How are you? How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright. This,” she placed a hand on her still flat stomach, “has been… overwhelming. Unexpected, too. And stressful.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Eliza told me the reason you’re not taking the case is because you have a delicate pregnancy?” she pointedly stared at the white newborn pajamas Aaron was still holding. She probably couldn’t tell that under his jacket and scarf he was already showing a little. Not much, but he made small babies, so that was normal.

He smiled tensely. “That would be correct.” Twenty weeks, with polyhydramnios and a touch of antibodies wanting to attack his baby’s blood. “I’m sorry. I would’ve liked helping you some more.”

“Don’t worry about it. You helped a lot already.” She sighed. “Man, pregnancies are supposed to be happy. What is this shit? I mean, I get why mine can’t be, but yours? You have a nice family, a nice mate, and you probably planned it in advance. You shouldn’t have to worry.”

“Blood… a person’s blood is usually Rh-positive, but there are some who are Rh-negative. I am. And my husband isn’t. Thus, our babies have always been Rh-positive. If my blood mixes with my baby’s, it can be dangerous for both of us, but since doctors knew it in advance, there were measures that could be taken preventively and my other pregnancies went okay. They don’t know how it happened but that preventive action didn’t work, and now my body is… _prepared_ to attack my baby as soon as the chance appears. If we’re careful enough, he’ll be okay, if only a little yellow for the first couple of weeks. But if something goes wrong… well, we’re both in danger.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It is,” he agreed. “I’m afraid my husband’s hair might turn prematurely white.” He wasn’t even exaggerating. Each time they’d been in stressful situations regarding their kids, he’d found a different white hair on Alexander’s head. It was amusing. Still, he had no doubt the alpha would still look attractive no matter the color of his hair. He had those thoughts often, when glancing sideways as they lied in bed together; for he considered himself lucky he’d fallen in love with the man he did. He considered himself lucky they’d found each other early, back in college, and got to live they life they lived. It wasn’t easy, for black bracelets, to be that adjusted, to be functional in their society. It was just too easy, for any Skilled, to be cornered into a place of hopelessness.

“What’s wrong?” asked Alexander later that evening, closing his book and placing it on his nightstand.

Aaron licked his lips, still considering his plan. “I still want to help Maria Lewis.”

Alexander frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Most cases like this, the father gets supervised visits, even if he’s convicted for her rape, and he could be acquitted. I know Angelica is a good lawyer, but she won’t use the right words on a Skilled court without help.”

“So you want to offer her your help?”

“Yes.”

Alexander pursed his lips, deep in thought. “And are you sure Angelica Schuyler will agree to that?”

“No, I doubt it,” he sighed. “But I can’t just stand by. I can’t.” He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like if the little thing growing inside of him hadn’t been the result of careful and loving plans between his husband and him. He couldn’t. And it was unsettling to simply try.

Alexander grabbed his hand and squeezed tenderly. “Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Aaron smiled, lovingly at first and then playfully, with more than a few ideas on what his husband could do to help. He told him so, and then exposed in what other ways he could give him courage, which involved his mouth and hands but little to no words. It was late, and on those nights their kids rarely knocked on their door. It was their room, Aaron’s nest, and the safest place on the world for them.

֍

A couple’s room at night is a very special thing. It is the place where they do and say all those things that cannot be said anywhere else. It is also a place of comfort.

Jonathan Bellamy, like most teachers, took a lot of his work home, and he had the habit of going over everything while laying in bed, in his comfortable pajamas. His husband, John Laurens, usually found it very difficult to fit in there next to the many papers and books and pencils of different colors, and thus, he found other things to do in his study or living room before unavoidably finding some space in his bed and closing his eyes very tightly to ignore the lights that would probably be on well into the night. On that Monday evening, however, he had many things to say, and spent the time pacing around his room, talking to his mate, while he went through grammatic tests almost mindlessly.

“I just don’t know what else to do! This is the third time she tries to rob me! I thought we had reached an understatement!”

“Old habits and all that, dear.”

“Old habits my ass, she’s twelve. Fuck. Please tell me you know the answer. You always know everything. How can I help her?”

Bellamy hummed. “I don’t know. She seems to be doing pretty well.”

“She steals for a living. I bet you she doesn’t go to school.”

“Does she look like she’s been living on the street?”

“Bell!”

“I’m just asking, because you seem to be under the idea that it is your responsibility to give her that.”

“Give her…” he sat at the foot of the bed, a look of shock on his face, “what?”

“A home, John.” He took off his reading glasses and put them away. “It isn’t simple to help people on the street. You can give them a little but that doesn’t fix anything on the long run. This, however, is a kid we’re talking about. And we have no kids.”

“We chose not to.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Something like that, sure.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “John, we could do it. If you want.”

“She’s a handle, Bell. She, she has no scruples and she’s rude…”

“And yet, you seem to care about her an awful lot,” replied Bellamy, finishing up and piling all the papers to make room for his husband. “You search for her every day. You try to make sure she eats. You’ve bought her clothes…” he shook his head, “you’re basically trying to raise that kid but it’s a little hard to do so when you have no idea where she lives, don’t you think?”

John sighed. “Bell… are you serious about this? Because it’s a pretty damn big deal.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “I might not be a lawyer, Mr. Laurens, but I do know what adoption means. Look,” he scooted to sit in front of him, folding one leg under the other, “you make it sound like that little girl is very lost. And she’s a red bracelet. She’s definitely getting the definitive one when she turns sixteen, and after that, who knows? You seem to run into her way too much for it to not mean anything. We could help her. Give her a chance. Besides, it’s been just us for almost a decade. It’s about time we get a kid.”

“You never said you wanted kids before.”

“I’ve never been crazy for babies. I never thought too much of it because we can’t make our own. But this isn’t about expanding our family. This is about giving that poor girl a home.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” he ran a hand through his hair, “why are you always right? You always know what to say.”

Bellamy shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a gift.”

It certainly was. That gift was one of his best traits. A gif that his mate, John Laurens, didn’t possess, which meant that the next day, when he saw Fanny by the corner of his building, he didn’t have the least idea of what to tell her. All he knew was that, in that Tuesday morning, like most days, he already had bought two donuts and a hot chocolate besides his coffee, and he’d been worrying whether the jacket she was wearing was warm enough. Bellamy was right. He cared too much. And he had no idea what to do about it. Adoption sounded a bit too much. It sounded crazy, and he felt as if he was overstepping some kind of untold limit, but at the same time… why not? What was stopping him, really? He knew logically he couldn’t help every lost kid out there, but Fanny? That one rebellious kid he saw almost every day? He could do something for her, if she wanted to. So he walked up to her like always, offered her the bag containing her breakfast which she took with no distrust nowadays, after some very loud arguments in the past few weeks, and told her: “My husband and I would like to adopt you.”

She choke on her donut. A long coughing fit overcame her while he stood there not knowing what to do, noticing how nobody paid any attention to them. “You okay?”

She nodded, breathing heavily before taking a long sip of her hot chocolate. Then, after a long sigh, she asked: “You mean this? You really…? No. Why? I don’t understand.”

John scratched the back of his head, awkwardly shifting in his feet. “I know it may sound suspicious to you, but… look, you’re a bold kid. Smart, even, when you’re not being stupid. And you… I don’t see how else I can help you, to be honest. Because the world out there, they don’t want you to be okay. They don’t want you to be successful and happy and okay. But I do. Hell if I know why, but I do.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “That was just very cheesy. You’re still suspicious.”

“Would you believe that my husband is just a really soft guy, and he suggested it?”

“He doesn’t even know me!”

“I know!” he raised his arms to the sky. “He’s insane!” He chuckled. “But he has good ideas, and he’s usually always right. And we can’t have kids anyway. I mean, none of us can get pregnant and we’re not exactly a poster couple for the adoption agencies.” The stereotypical alpha wasn’t a loving parent. He bit his bottom lip. “I know it sounds weird. But the world, the world sucks. And no matter how much I try, I’m never able to improve it. There’s nothing I can do to make the world a better place, but for you? I think I can help _you_. I can give you a house, Wi-Fi, a phone, food, education and… a family. You could be a part of my family, if you want. It’s not that large, but hey, you’re getting grandparents. My dad gives amazing gifts.”

“Dude, you had me at Wi-Fi, you can stop now.” She tried to play it cool, but she was obviously nervous and maybe even excited. “But how…?”

“You let the legal part to me. And you can move in as soon as you want.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Her jacket was definitely not warm enough, but at least the sweater was big.

“Come with me tonight. I finish at six. Get your things and have dinner with us. Who knows? Maybe you’ll hate it, and you can go and ignore this ever happened in the morning.”

She released a shaky breath and nodded. “Dinner. Got you. I’ll be here at six.”

“Cool.” He nodded and entered the building, fighting the urge of turning around and watching her. It was weird going to work after that. He wanted to get it all over with. He wanted to see if she liked it, if the idea made her happy or not. He wanted her to be okay, and a kid, for once, instead of the miniature of an adult that was starting to accept his help from time to time. She was a kid with more responsibilities than most grownups, having to secure a place for herself, having to secure her survival on her own, in a world that didn’t like her. To John, that was fucking admirable, and if she agreed to it, to spending more time with him, to let him take care of her most basic needs so she could worry about other things, about growing in other aspects, well, perhaps that would be the most important thing he’d ever done. The greatest act, the one real impact in the world, but it wasn’t up to him. She needed to give him permission, first. That twelve-year-old that was ridiculously smart, and bold, and could be so great if only given half a chance. He wanted to give her one, or twenty. He wanted her to screw up and be there to fix it. But first, the thing at the top of his list, was giving her a real nutritious meal and a warm bed to spend the night.

“You have a big place for just two people,” was the first thing Fanny said about his apartment, at six-thirty in the afternoon.

John shrugged. “I like it, and I can afford it.”

She pursed her lips. “Good answer, I guess.”

He snorted. “Whatever. Down this hallway,” he led her and went opening doors as they moved, “there’s the study, a bathroom, my bedroom, and… this one would be your room.” He gave her a cocky grin. “I’ll let you alone for a minute. I’ll be back, but just yell if you need anything.” He hoped she did. Or maybe not. He wanted to leave her alone, but he also wanted to witness all her reactions. It was very tempting to just stick around. Bellamy had texted him around lunchtime and sent him some pictures with the few changes he’d done in what had been their guestroom. It wasn’t particularly girly or childish, but it wasn’t as plain as it had been either. The covers that had been grey were now red. The curtains were still white, but there were red laces around them, and the closet which had been filled with towels and blankets had been emptied. It was spacious, it still looked half-empty, but that was alright. Filling it with anything would be Fanny’s responsibility and call.

Still, when he went back there about twenty minutes later, he wasn’t expecting her to be just sitting there, looking vacant. He wasn’t asking for flooding happiness nor praises, but at least a smile—or anything else, really. She looked almost sad.

“Hey, you okay? Dinner will be ready soon,” said Laurens, knocking on the open door and trying not to sound worried.

“I never had my own room before,” confessed Fanny in a whisper. “This is really pretty.”

“I’m glad you liked it. I mean, you do? Right? I didn’t get that wrong?”

She finally smiled. It was a tiny thing, but it did something to John. She nodded. “I like it. Thank you.”

“Hey, I told you already, you have to thank Bell. He’s finishing dinner. Come join us downstairs.”

“Wait, what’s his name?”

“Jonathan Bellamy. I know, I know, we’re two John’s, but everyone calls him Bell.”

“Including you? Isn’t that a little… impersonal?”

Laurens arched one eyebrow. “When I want to get personal I call him pet names. Come on, let’s go downstairs.”

“But what do I call him?”

“Bell is fine.”

“What? No! I can’t call him that!”

“You call me by my name, don’t you?” He sighed when she didn’t move. “Why don’t you just ask him what he wants to be called?” He found her worries silly but endearing, and a good sign too. Hopefully, she didn’t want to know what to call him just for that evening.

“Just call me whatever you want to call me, Fanny,” he told her. “Most of my friends call me Bell. Others call me Jonathan. Jon is weird,” he admitted with laughter in his eyes. “It’s unnecessarily confusing, when we’re both around.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I like Bell.”

“I like it too.”

Fanny’s smile turned a little brighter, but dinner was still a little awkward. There was no trace of the impertinent preteen John talked to everyday, except whenever John teased her, but he tried not to, after a while. She was nervous, and when she glared at him, it was tainted with anxiety. John felt a little bad, but he couldn’t help to be both, amused and pleased.

Because she wanted Bellamy to like her. She really wanted to stay. So, he stopped teasing her and allowed his husband to ease the atmosphere. He was good at that, exploring harmless yet entertaining subjects, raising her interest and encouraging her to put her guard down. It took a while. She was tough, and nervous, and clearly had heard many times that guests and kids ought to be extremely polite to the point it started bothering John.

When Bellamy left them to get the dessert, he leaned forward in his seat and told her confidentially: “Stop doing that. You’re not having dinner with the president. You’re not here to prove you can. You’re here to see if you want to stay. It’s your call.”

She glared at him, again. “You act as if you couldn’t change your mind. He’s never met me before! And I don’t have a reason to act any different. I’m just being polite to the guy that cooked my dinner and invited me to his home.”

He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “I invited you to my home also!”

“Yeah, but you’re weird.”

Her bored expression quickly shifted into one of despair when she heard Bellamy cackling in laughter behind them. He waved a hand to indicate she mustn’t worry, but that didn’t exactly calm her.

It took him a moment, but eventually he breathed enough to say: “You’re both right, actually. My husband is a weird man, I know. But,” he gave her one of those incredibly tender smiles of his, “we’re not changing our minds, Fanny. We wouldn’t be as irresponsible as to make such an offer without being sure. I hadn’t met you, yes, but John spoke of you almost every day, I felt like I had already.”

“And I said a lot of bad shit.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and sent him a chastised look. “You need to cut down the swearing.”

“She swears more than me!”

“Not tonight, she hasn’t. And I don’t like swearing very much.”

Laurens sighed dramatically. “That’s only because you work with second graders. It’s dumb.”

Fanny twisted in her seat and rested her elbow on the back rest, staring at Bellamy with interest. “What’s wrong with swearing? I mean, I know people don’t like it and all, but I can’t really understand why.”

Laurens grinned. After that, conversation went a lot more naturally. Fanny was relaxed, Bellamy was talking about something he was ridiculously passionate about, and John was… surprisingly content, to be there, in the middle of it. If all his nights could be like that, then maybe, just maybe, he could start enjoying the present a little more and stop shaming all the parents he normally called lazy. Sure, he never would stop worrying about the future and trying to make an impact in it, especially now that there was someone in his life he wished would outlive him and he needed to leave her something worthy to inhabit. But those things Bellamy always told him, about not ignoring his life in pursue of something bigger than himself, suddenly made a lot more sense. It made sense, why so many would make family their priority. His relationship with Bellamy had always been important, but it was easy, too. He’d been lucky to find him, a man that hardly got upset and supported his every goal. He never had to make an effort to be there, and never understood those that had to, never saw the appeal. But to be in that table, he felt like making an effort sounded ridiculously easy to do, too, because the reward was more than worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had a different title and a different summary about... what, four hours ago? Ah, how things change... anyway, I hope you liked it!


	7. Working relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coworkers aren’t always friends, but they are people you see often. A good working relationship is always desirable!

A slow day for a cop often meant a good day for the people in their area. It was, therefore, a good thing. Or so Gilbert kept telling himself, one uncommon Tuesday morning, while he was bored out of his mind. It was perhaps the second or third time in his entire career in which he had no open cases, and he wouldn’t dare to say he wanted people to commit crimes so he would have something to do, but… well, he was bored. He’d never been good at staying put.

Then, as if the universe had taken pity of him, a fire extinguisher was heavily dropped on top of his desk by his grinning partner. “Hey. Could I convince you to join our wheelchair race, using this as our motor?”

“What?”

“It’s a game,” said Hercules, per only explanation, with a shrug and a smile. “For days like this.”

Gilbert could’ve sworn that Hercules’s smile when he looked at him was a little different than his usual one. It took his breath away, nevertheless, like always. He smiled back. “It sounds dangerous and stupid. I’m in.”

They managed to have four races—Hercules won three of those, and Gilbert the other. Lee, the other cop involved, lost every single one—before they had to do any real work, which turned out to be just a misunderstanding that solved itself the moment they showed their badges. Gilbert didn’t care. He considered it a good day, for he spent it laughing with his partner, and he almost had forgotten he had tried calling a friend of his earlier that day. It hadn’t been anything important, so he hadn’t insisted, and by the time she called him back, right when he was going home, it was long unimportant. Still, he answered cheerfully, because Maria Antonia was always busy doing something fun and he hadn’t spoken to her in a while.

“ _I’m sorry I missed your call. Max is visiting,_ ” explained Toni, “ _and we were singing._ ”

“That’s okay,” said Gilbert. “It wasn’t really important. How long is your brother staying?”

“ _Just this week. He has a meeting tomorrow._ ” He could hear in her voice that she was smiling, tone bright and playful; a common occurrence whenever she mentioned her only little brother doing grownup stuff. With a dozen older siblings, her relationship with the youngest was a special thing. “ _You should join us for dinner tonight, if you have time._ ”

“Sure!”

Gilbert liked Toni. He knew her marriage to his childhood friend hadn’t been inspired by love, but they were good friends and kept each other company in a good way. They seemed to get along. And Lou never showed to want anything else. Toni was different, though. She would get that air sometimes, when no one was looking, that she was missing something. Never in front of her brother though. In front of Max, she looked vibrant.

Gilbert had only met Toni’s brother Max a few times, and he had conflicted feelings about the alpha. Gilbert himself thought the world needed to be fixed; he saw injustice everywhere and wanted to do something about it, but he never considered himself a separatist. Even though his inner circle until very recently had been entirely composed by Skilled, he never considered himself a separatist. He agreed that the Ungifted were in a position of privilege over them, but he never held any grudges against them, and he certainly found the discourse of Skilled supremacy a very dangerous thing, that was becoming more and more common in the separatist scene, that already had a bad reputation.

Still, when they invited him to go out dancing after dinner, he agreed, because there was something going on with Toni and he didn’t want to leave her alone.

“What’s this place?” he asked when they entered a bar he’d never seen before.

“It’s a bar,” said Max, grinning madly.

His sister giggled and then confessed to Gilbert in a whisper: “A bar solely for Skilled. Isn’t it great?”

Gilbert wasn’t sure. On one hand, regular bars, with Ungifted bartenders and Ungifted guards, tended to be uncomfortable; they would eye most Skilled suspiciously, and would count their drinks, always making them feel like they were having one too many, no matter how little they were actually drinking. Whenever there was an argument, no matter the circumstances, the Skilled would be thrown out, and if anyone dared to question that, cops were immediately called. They arrived fast, too. They always did, when a Skilled was involved. So maybe, a bar for them was a good thing. But were the Ungifted not allowed inside? Because that was just wrong. That would mean he could never invite Hercules for a drink, for example.

He grimaced. Even if he could, he should never invite Hercules for a drink.

Toni narrowed her eyes and studied him carefully. When he first met her, he couldn’t believe so many people had told him she wasn’t very bright, because when she cared, she could be brilliant. “Is there something you need to tell me, Gil?”

He wasn’t surprised Lou hadn’t told her, although he wouldn’t have minded. He liked Toni, and he trusted her. The problem was her brother, that was staring at him suspiciously.

He sighed. “I was just thinking of something stupid. It doesn’t matter.”

She hummed. “Okay. Let’s dance!” She grabbed his hand and dragged him to the center of the dance floor, closely followed by her brother, and for a while, Gilbert was alright. Toni was a wonderful dancer, and he loved to dance as well. It was a good way to stop thinking, simply listening to the music and moving with it. However, he couldn’t help to notice the way his friend appeared to be distracted. The minute Max left them to use the bathroom, her face shifted, and she dragged him to a table at the back.

“Toni?”

“I’m sorry. I just… I need a drink. Or something.”

“Toni.”

“This has been a bad week. I thought Max visiting would make it better, but it hasn’t helped as much as I wanted. And now, I see you’re kind of down too, so tell me why that is. I want some other issues to worry about.”

He smiled fondly at her and told her everything. He told her how Hercules made him feel, what he was like, the things he did and said, and she listened attentively. He talked until it became evident that Max should’ve been back already, and then kept talking, because he really didn’t like Max that much, and he wanted to, he wanted to talk. It was so easy, to list all the ways in which his partner made his heart swell. He didn’t think it mattered who he was talking to, although when Toni got a text from her brother that said he had left with some pretty thing, talking became even easier. And Toni listened. For hours, she listened, because she was nice like that. People called her selfish and Gilbert couldn’t believe it. To be willing to listen to someone else for so long was no small act, regardless of their closeness. Listening, really listening, was never easy, and Gilbert couldn’t be more thankful.

֍

To listen one must be in the right mood. Sadly, for the person that’s going to be doing the talking, is practically impossible to know if the other will be in the right mood to listen. However, there are some things that need to be told and cannot be delayed, even if the receptor isn’t willing to receive the message.

Aaron made his way to ADA Angelica Schuyler’s office knowing he probably wouldn’t be welcomed, but he had made up his mind and saw no point in waiting for a time that may never come. He knew the Ungifted wouldn’t go looking for his help, and she may never appreciate it, but he was going to give it anyway, because it was the best for the case.

“Mr. Burr…” Angelica seemed a little uncomfortable with his visit, but oddly resigned.

He stared into her eyes to deliver the speech he’d been practicing without showing any hesitation: “I know I told you to keep the case, and that I didn’t see why you shouldn’t…”

“But you think I won’t know how to connect with the jury,” she interrupted him.

He smiled dejectedly. “Someone else told you that already, huh?”

“Your DA,” she rubbed the back of her neck and stood aside to let him in. “He told me to check with you, actually. Are you cool with that?”

“Yes.” Aaron should’ve known Bentham would do something like that. “Yes, more than cool, really,” he cleared his throat. “Can I check what you have there?”

“Sure. Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee? No, you can’t drink coffee, can you? Uh, tea. I have tea. And, and water.”

“Water would be nice, thank you.” He tried to smile and act as relaxed as he could, which was a way better performance than the one the alpha was giving, so that was something of an encouragement. For the first couple of minutes, the conversation was strained and their movements stiff, but once they both fully concentrated on the case at hand, words started flowing and their actions grew more natural. He stopped feeling as if he was invading someone else’s working place and the atmosphere turned into a merely professional one, with no grudges and only interest in securing their victory.

Most of the time, that is. Still, Aaron would sometimes catch the Schuyler giving him an awry look interrupting her reading or spacing out from what he was saying very subtly. He tried to be considerate and repeated himself when necessary, never pointing it out, but after almost two hours he was growing tired.

“Oh, you’re getting Judge Smith? That’s great. She’s wonderful,” he commented, trying to get her attention back without saying anything about it.

“I’ve never met her,” admitted Angelica. “But I’ve heard good things about her.”

Aaron hummed. He had promised Alexander that he would be the one to pick up Philip from his piano lesson. He was done extending that meeting over undiscussed things. “Are you okay, Miss Schuyler?”

She swallowed hard, her discomfort visible even through her scolded features, but Aaron had first believed it was all due to him being there, working with her. Now that she had repeatedly praised his input and thanked him, he didn’t know what to think.

“Would you rather we keep doing this at another time, or through the phone or…?”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, I… I’m sorry, I’m just a little… I’m a little concerned. Last time I saw you, you said you probably would take an early maternity leave and I just, it worries me that this could be too much or something.”

Aaron arched one eyebrow. “Oh, yes. Sitting here in a table with you calmly discussing an upcoming trial surely is too much of a strain for me. Forgive me. I should’ve let you know.”

“Don’t be like that, I never meant to offend you, you know that wasn’t my point. I just…” she took a deep breath, regretting her choice of not talking to Maria more and more. “I’m used to knowing everything about the people I work with. I’ve never worked with someone as…  secretive as you, and you just dumped all that information last time, and I can’t forget it. I’m sorry. It’s unprofessional and I promise I’ll do my best to get it out of my mind by the next time we meet.”

Aaron sighed. “So that’s it? You’re just curious?”

“No!” she licked her lips. “No, I’m… well, yes. But that’s not your problem, it’s mine.”

“It’s kind of getting in the middle of our job, and honestly, it is quite simple to fix. Why don’t you ask whatever you want to know?”

Angelica bit her bottom lip, clearly still thinking that it would be rude of her but obviously wanting to do it anyway. “Is this your first pregnancy?”

“No. It’s my third.”

“Have they all been risky?”

“Yes. There’s something about my blood type being incompatible with my husband’s that could cause complications without the proper care. This time, despite said care, complications still happened.”

“I see.” She cleared her throat and drank some water. “I wouldn’t have dared. I mean, alpha pregnancies are usually complicated, and neither my husband nor I ever dreamt of being parents so…” she shrugged one shoulder, “no babies here.” When most people learnt that she was queer, they usually assumed they didn’t have any kids because they couldn’t; not that they never even tried. “Pregnancy is scary.”

Aaron snorted. “No shit.”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“No, I agree with you on that,” he smirked. “Honestly, the first time my husband and I talked about it we were still just dating, and I told him I wasn’t sure I wanted any. He told me he always had wanted kids, but that it was ultimately my choice, and that was it for like, four years. Then one day he asked me if I still thought that way and I…” he stared into his glass for a moment, lost in faraway memories of a different time, a time full of uncertainties and fears and maybes. He smiled. “I kind of wanted to see what kind of father he would be. It was stupid, really, but I said that and he…” he chuckled, “he was _so_ happy. We decided to give it a go and… well, we’re both high levels. I got pregnant within two weeks.”

She arched her eyebrows. “Woah, you surely weren’t messing around.”

He grinned. “It was damn scary. And wonderful. And horrible. Like, most things people say about pregnancy? The bad and the good? All true.”

“Interesting.”

Aaron laughed cheerfully. “I see your opinion in the matter has not been changed.”

She shook her head. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” He reopened the file. “Now, this neighbor that’s willing to testify…” they kept talking about the case a lot more focused after that. It was such a proficient exchange that if it hadn’t been for the alarm he had in his phone, he almost would’ve lost track of the time and would’ve forgotten about Philip.

He froze after he accidentally said that out loud, knowing full well what many of the people he knew—all conservative assholes and none of the people he considered friends—would’ve reacted having heard that _an omega_ could’ve _forgotten his son_ , clearly a proof of what working life did to them and what a terrible choice that was for any family, and was relieved when the alpha simply laughed, saying she had to put alarms whenever she had stuff to do and was working because she got lost on it most of the time. He left her office feeling a lot more optimistic than he’d gotten in.

It wasn’t all flawless, of course. Soon enough they would hit walls; they had different point of views on many things and they were used to different audiences, had different techniques and focused on completely different details, but he’d known that was coming. They at least could be civil about it, and none had to compromise their principles or morals to just interact with the other.

Another coworker of his, Axel, stared down at him and folded his arms on top of his chest after he heard him talk about it for ten minutes while they ate a quick snack on a break from a trial they were in together. “You could’ve given the case to me, you know?”

Aaron sighed. “Of course I thought of it, Axel, but… I really couldn’t. Angelica probably would’ve become your enemy and we don’t want that. It would’ve been unnecessary trouble. She knows the victim, and I think it’s a particularly personal case for her, this one.”

“All the more reason for her to _not_ be on it.”

“Jeremy met her, and he seems to be okay with it.”

“Jeremy trusts in your judgement, way too much.” He sighed and shook his head. “But it’s not like I don’t see why he does,” his face softened. “And I got my own cases anyway. When are you taking your leave?”

Aaron arched his eyebrows. “You already want me gone? I didn’t know you found me so annoying, Axel.”

Fersen rolled his eyes. “I don’t. I just thought we could for once talk about something that isn’t work and that was the most obvious topic.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?”

“What?!”

Aaron chuckled. “I’m just messing with you. It is true that we don’t know much about each other, but…” he shrugged one shoulder, “does it really bother you?”

“No. Not at all, to be honest.”

“It doesn’t bother me either.”

“Great.”

Aaron presumed Fersen had his own problems, but he never could’ve guessed them. The man was often gentle and kind, but he was also very reserved and private, something Aaron could understand. And he was being honest, too. He really wasn’t bothered by it. They weren’t friends. They were colleagues that got along, at most, and he felt more than a little nosy because of his good memory, noticing things he couldn’t care less about and honestly wished he could just forget, like how the man had been taking leaves like a clock for almost a year to be with some omega during their heats and that hadn’t happened when it should have, that week. Was that somewhat related to Fersen’s sudden effort to be more casual and closer? Was he hoping he could talk about his problems with Aaron?

If he were a religious man, Aaron would’ve prayed for the answer to that to be no. Still, he felt a little guilty, especially because the alpha seemed to be struggling in silence.

He sighed. “Is there something you want to talk about, Axel? I wouldn’t mind listening, if that’s what you need.”

The alpha looked mortified, but he wasn’t in a hurry to decline the offer. He scratched the back of his head nervously and said: “I… I wouldn’t… I’m sorry. Do you mean that? I just can’t talk about it to anyone and…”

“Of course.” He hadn’t meant it, but now he felt bad and he just wanted to get it over with. It was also a little sad that he couldn’t talk about it with the friends Aaron hoped the guy had.

“I… I recently broke up with… no. It wasn’t like that. It was supposed to be just for her heats. Or that’s what she told her husband. But I fell in love with her. And I think she fell in love with me too. But she wasn’t leaving her husband, and…” he shook his head, “honestly, I couldn’t get it. She’s married to an alpha, so why didn’t she spend her heats with him?”

“That’s odd,” admitted Aaron, a little stunned with all the information Fersen had just thrown at him.

“I had to break it off before we bonded. It was hurting us both.”

“Of course.”

“But I miss her.”

“How long ago did you stop seeing her?”

“About a month ago.”

“That’s fairly recent… you had to keep it all a secret?”

Axel nodded.

Aaron bit his bottom lip. “Have you ever considered seeing a therapist?”

“Before this? No. Now?” He snorted. “I have. Do you know any?”

“One of my best friends is a psychiatrist. I could ask him.”

“Thank you, Burr.”

Aaron smiled, and hoped that would be the end of that conversation, at least for the day. Still, he felt like he’d done the right thing. Being able to confide in the people you worked with was very useful, at times. For better or for worse, having a friend nearby made life a lot easier. More bearable. He never had cared that he didn’t; his boss treated him like a friend, and he found that problematic, no matter how much he liked the old beta. But there was nothing problematic in being Axel’s friend. Maybe it could be even nice. He knew his husband would probably try to take credit for it, but he wouldn’t give in that time. It was very different, after all, befriending a coworker than working with friends.

֍

Alexander had tried many times, when he was bored, to picture what it would be like to have no friends in the workplace. His usual conclusion was the it would be hell. People called him a workaholic, and it was true, when he focused he couldn’t stop, and he loved his job, but there was only so much one could write and read to prepare a defense. Breaks were inevitable in an office. And the need to comment what he was reading would often arise in the middle of work, too. Some cases were indignant, others were ridiculous, and Aaron wouldn’t pick up the phone if he was on trial. Thus, it was very convenient for Alexander to have his best friend always nearby, and he figured for Laurens it was the same. It was comforting. And perhaps just a little distracting, when there was news that one desperately wanted to share, because work shortly stopped being important. People loved the stereotype that alphas were above gossiping, but no one who worked near those two could’ve supported it. Their coworkers would sometimes wonder how come they had such great reputations when some days it looked like all they did was talk and got no work done. But then again, some news couldn’t wait, right?

“You’re adopting her?”

John nodded. “Yeah. She could use a home. Bell and I could use a daughter.”

Alexander stared at him in shock. “That’s… that’s awesome, dude, I’m happy for you. Just, you know what you’re getting into, right?”

“I know she has issues, but don’t we all? If anyone complains, we’re just extremely patriotic. Our bracelets form our colors, after all.”

Alexander chuckled, studying his best friend carefully but fondly. He had no doubt John would make a good parent, but he never thought he would want to be one. “This was Bell’s idea, wasn’t it?”

Laurens nodded. “Yeah… to be honest, I’m just surprised she said yes.”

That honestly didn’t surprise Alexander at all.

“You guys should host a dinner or something. We’ll take the kids.”

“I’m not sure, man… I have a feeling she would be a terrible host,” he sniggered, “but I’ll try to get her into it. Is there anything Aaron can’t eat nowadays? How is he doing?”

Alexander grimaced. “He’s doing okay, and he can eat the stuff all pregnant people can eat, dude. Just don’t give him coffee nor booze nor anything raw.”

“You just fucked all my menu, dude!” he joked, knowing perfectly well Bellamy would probably make all of Aaron’s favorite dishes because he was that extra. John and Aaron weren’t the best of friends; not because they didn’t like each other, but conversation never seemed to flow easily between them. However, he would forever be grateful that he got to meet the love of his life because of him. And it was practical. He doubted anyone had a better time with double dates than the four of them.

Still, he imagined that getting Philip and Theo on board with dinner was a lot easier than convincing Fanny, who seemed nervous as hell with the prospect of meeting their friends, maybe even more than she’d been before meeting Bell.

“You’re going to like Hamilton. He grew up in Foster Care.”

Fanny choked on her water, which Bellamy had gotten to calm her down. “What?”

John hummed. “Yeah. He didn’t run, though he hated every minute of it. He got a good scholarship for college and never looked back. He works with me. Went to Harvard and all.”

“He’s… successful?” Success stories from Skilled in Foster Care were pretty much unheard of.

“Makes a ton of money helping only the Skilled, has a hot husband and two happy kids. So yeah, I think he’s successful.”

“Okay,” she nodded, still looking dumbfounded. “I want to meet him.”

“Great. They’ll come for dinner tomorrow.”

She gulped. “Okay. How old are his kids?”

“Young. Philip is seven and Theo is five. I’m sorry, I’m afraid they might find you cool and will want to be with you all night.”

She chuckled and snapped her fingers. “Oh, darn. But are they Skilled, at least?”

John nodded. “Phil is probably getting a black bracelet, but I don’t know about Theo. It would be cool if she did too. They’d be a family of nothing but black bracelets.”

“You’re kidding.”

Bell sighed. “Sadly, he isn’t. And he just loves how intimidating they probably look to the Ungifted.”

“It keeps them at bay.”

Fanny snorted. “You’re an idiot, John.” She understood, though. She’d been called a separatist in the past, back when she was seven and scared and completely ignorant in politics, by one of her foster parents, and she’d been ashamed. She wasn’t ashamed anymore, to admit out loud that the Ungifted scared her and she wanted nothing to do with them. She wouldn’t even try to rob them, because they could get her into serious trouble, and they always noticed her. The Skilled saw a child, but the Ungifted immediately saw someone dangerous.

In a matter of minutes, she was a lot calmer. She knew she wasn’t pretty nor polite enough. Kids like her normally didn’t get adopted. But John’s friend wouldn’t judge her for that, he might even get it. She prayed his husband was tolerant enough, and the kids? She wasn’t worried about them. Skilled children were easy to charm, for her, that grew around so many. They weren’t like the ones she knew, of course. These ones were lucky, having two parents that loved them and cared for them and could protect them, but she didn’t envy them. They were all unlucky, with their genes in that world, and she had people protecting her too, now. With every look and smile Bell and John gave her, she felt a little safer.

֍

Getting the kids ready to dine out usually took a while. Theodosia liked the opportunity to use her hair in different ways, and Philip would complain about his jacket or his shoes and would waste time playing videogames longer than he should. Besides, Alexander took so long getting ready himself he wasn’t of any help either, and it became Aaron’s task to make sure everyone looked decent, before even wondering what he would wear. But visiting Bellamy and Laurens was usually not as stressful, and they didn’t live very far, so that was convenient.

Alexander was a little nervous. He didn’t regret making the offer, but the nerves weren’t going away.

“What’s wrong?” asked Aaron distractedly when he entered the bathroom to get his perfume. The bite in his neck was fully visible after his shower, and his slow pace indicated he had no intention of covering it. There was no need, visiting their friends late at night. He still damped though. High-levels had stronger scents, and he felt almost naked knowing that others could smell him and his emotions.

Alexander gulped. “I… I don’t know much about the girl, but if she was on the street, then she probably…”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.”

“Yeah, but is it? Really? I know Laurens. He probably told her… something. She’ll have questions.”

“And she’ll see that you’re a well-adjusted adult in a loving relationship with kids and friends and a good job. That’s all the answer she needs.”

Alexander shook his head. “It’s not, and you know it.”

“You can tell her you’ll answer later.”

Alexander took a deep breath. Aaron’s scent was weak, but ever present in the bathroom attached to their room, soothing as always. He nodded. “Later. Yeah, I can tell her that.”

Aaron hugged him from behind and dropped a kiss on his neck. “Relax. Even if she wants to talk to you, I’m sure she’ll be too busy with Phil and Theo. They’re going to talk her ear off, for sure.”

Alexander chuckled. “Oh, yeah, they’re definitely going to do that.”

Alexander nervous was not a common sight, and Aaron would always find it endearing. Concerning too, but he knew he was usually able to fix it, and that night wasn’t any different. He was the designated speaker of the family when meeting new people, and he was calm and relaxed to perform his role in few minutes. It had stopped being stressful a long time ago, ever since Theo started talking, because there was no heart she couldn’t steal. With her by their side, he had no doubt any dinner would be a success.

When he saw the twelve-year-old staring at them all nervous, he almost, almost, worried, but he took a deep breath, put on a smile on his face, and decided to trust in his kids to put her at ease in minutes like he had planned. It wasn’t his place to do so, and delegating was a lot easier when it was to competent people, and he considered his children _very_ competent.

“Hello! You must be Fanny. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Aaron and these are Philip and Theo.”

“And I’m Alexander. We’ve met before,” he grinned, “you’re the reason John started bringing breakfast to the office. And for that, you have my gratitude.”

“But papa, you always eat breakfast before you go to work,” said his daughter, frowning slightly.

“Yes, but John arrives about forty minutes after that, with donuts. I’m allowed to have donuts.”

If anyone feared what dinner would be like, that was the point in which it was all forgotten. The kids stole the conversation, as always, and the minute it was acceptable they stole Fanny herself. They asked her all sorts of things but were as respectful and tactful as kids can be, with almost no filter for their own things, and Fanny was charmed. When the time came for them to sit on the table, she worried for perhaps twenty seconds that things could go awkward, but Aaron was perhaps even more charming than Bellamy, and his husband was a weird mix of gallant and hilarious, with an intensity hidden behind his eyes that his husband was always quick to tone down. Fanny hoped he hadn’t, but she was pretty overwhelmed with the kids already, so that was probably for the better. Sure, there were a few times in which she felt trapped and uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say, like when little Theo said:

“I’m just glad you got a family before Christmas.”

But before the silence stretched on for too long, Alexander had snorted a laugh and said: “It’s only a problem that’s so little before Christmas. I’m afraid this year’s presents won’t be exactly fitting.”

Then his mate rolled his eyes. “There’s enough time. But I guess the ones next year will be a lot better.”

The conversation carried on without her for a while, with John and Bellamy fully defending their gift shopping abilities with ridiculous stories. The energy in the room was perfect, and no one looked at her weird for shutting down, although John passed one arm around her shoulders affectionately. She wasn’t sure if they understood what was really affecting her, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted them to get it. She just knew that, listening to everyone talk about the things they would all do next year, it brought up the idea that maybe, just maybe, because she wouldn’t dare to take anything for granted, she would be there as well.

“You should come for my birthday,” said Philip, finally taking her out of her thoughts and back to the table. “It’s in a month.”

She grinned nervously, hoping it didn’t show on her face how much she was liking that little boy and the rest of his family. “I don’t know. It’s going to be full of babies, probably, but…” she shrugged one shoulder, “it could be fun. I don’t know.”

“You have to come!” said Theo, looking at her expectantly with her dark, hopeful eyes.

Fanny barely knew her, but she couldn’t say no to those eyes. She licked her lips before muttering: “Okay.”

She almost didn’t catch how all the adults exchanged knowing looks, clearly all too familiar with the effect of those eyes, and she felt a little better. It wasn’t really a weakness of her if it was something so effective on everybody else, right?

By the time she was ready for bed, there were so many things on her mind she wasn’t sure she could close her eyes at all that night. When there was a knock on her door, she almost didn’t hear it, against all her thoughts.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

Fanny always had found unsettling the way Bellamy looked at her, with his tender eyes and soft smiles. She usually looked away. But that night she didn’t. She folded her legs to make space for him at the feet of the bed. “I’m fine. You want to sit?”

“Yes, thank you. What did you think of the Hamilton’s? I know they can be a little…” his grin turned wider for a moment, “overwhelming. But they’re nice, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “the kids are cool. Mr. Hamilton is cool too, if only a little loud. And Mr. Burr is really nice.”

“He is,” Bellamy agreed.

“Philip said his pregnancy is difficult this time. Why?”

“Oh,” he sighed, “that is complicated. He’s… sick. Sort of. It could be very, very bad, but also harmless, and there isn’t much one can do to incline the balance.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It’s very stressful. But I have hope they will be alright. They’re strong. And Aaron is usually extremely careful anyway. It’s just stressful how random it can be.”

But being a parent is a stressful job, and they seemed to be handling it pretty well. So it was scary, but Bellamy wasn’t worried, not really. He was more worried about his own performance as a parent now, because he suddenly really cared about the preteen he had in his house. He cared for her because she had no one else, and because she was witty and funny and kind. He cared because she was reckless and lonely and so, so good. He cared because she was his daughter now, and he worried because the outside world was a very dangerous place, especially for children, and especially for Skilled children.

Seriously, God helped them.


	8. Parties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some parties are about celebrating oneself, and others are about celebrating other people. One must remember to act accordingly.

To master any talent, practice is everything, and skills are not the exception. Without practice, no matter how easy one considers an activity to be, it is impossible to exploit its full potential. And practice can be tiring, boring, time-consuming, but on some cases, it is also absolutely necessary, like for certain skills. Most of them, really. Because skills were many times the default and not something that had to be turned on, like the Ungifted media liked to portray. All the skills that were connected to an individual’s voice or limbs usually required practice to look or act like everyone else. And those skills that were about the manipulation or elaboration of other substances were often a defense mechanism that reacted instinctively. Without any practice, almost every skill was dangerous, for the user or those around them. Without any practice, a Skilled could never _blend in_ , which was a requisite for safety. Paradoxically, finding time and space to practice could be incredibly difficult.

When Fanny was a little girl that still lived with her parents, she barely knew what she could do, and her parents were too cautious and fearful to really push her into learning, practicing anything, back then. She had been too young. They probably had intended to teach her eventually, maybe when she was older, maybe even later that year, but the world was cruel, and they had passed without teaching her a thing beyond the fact that the world feared her and that she needed to be discreet. The one time she hadn’t been discreet, while they still lived, had been disastrous. So then, in Foster Care, she’d really tried to be careful. She had. But she was spiteful and angry too, and when kids looked up to her to protect them from bullies, she found the perfect excuse to practice all she wanted. Sometimes she still felt like it wasn’t enough. When she met Philip Hamilton, she was almost overwhelmed with embarrassment. He was the perfect example of the impressive difference it made having a loving and caring environment to grow in. When one looked at him, playing with his skill as if to him it came as easy as breathing, Fanny couldn’t imagine anyone being afraid. It looked beautiful. Jealousy she could understand, but fear? No way. He manipulated the water like a talented potter would the clay, or even better, and he was only seven, almost eight years old. And it came naturally to him. The fact that he had to hide, be careful and discreet, was just another thing about their world that was messed up.

By the time his birthday came, Fanny was slightly embarrassed by how eager she was to see the little kid and the rest of his family again. She knew she shouldn’t like the idea of spending time with kids so much younger than her, but the truth was that she didn’t have many friends, so she would take what she could get. Besides, it was genuinely fun, getting some time to safely practice and show off her own skill, which she’d never been able to do in the past. Now that she lived with John and Bell she had a secret schedule for it, but it was different doing it with other kids. It felt different, using it as if it was something cool you could do, instead of the curse it usually felt like. And it was wonderful, knowing that these kids wouldn’t be like the dozens of kids she’d known in the system, whose expectations for the world were less than optimistic, because these ones, these had families that loved them and had their back and… and she was a part of it. Like, _really_ a part of it. It wasn’t… symbolic, anymore. It wasn’t something one would awkwardly confess in the dead of the night or before they had to say goodbye. Those kids wanted to spend time with her, not because they thought she could protect them or because she was the closest thing to a big sister or a mom they could find, but because she simply was there like a cousin would, and they liked her, _really_ liked her. If they didn’t, everything would be alright. There were other rooms and other people and other things they could do to avoid her without making it too awkward, but they chose to include her, that much was obvious in their faces when they saw her come in, and that realization made her incredibly happy.

After she gave the birthday boy a tight hug, he grabbed her hand and tugged. “Let me introduce you to everyone,” he said.

Fanny grinned. “Alright.”

Laurens chuckled and shook his head, watching the kid he considered his nephew drag around the girl he was starting to think of as his daughter. He never doubted the kids would get to her, but it was still relieving seeing it. She’d been so alone before. And she was a part of his family now. There would be a lot of instances in which those kids would be around, and it was best for everyone if they got along. And they did, at least Philip, Theo and her. But it was Philip’s party, and he had a few other friends she would have to meet that John couldn’t vouch for. Aaron did, though, and that would have to be enough.

Fanny was still figuring out that her interactions with the world had changed drastically now that she wasn’t, well, homeless. She would always be a Skilled, but there were adults taking care of her, and that made a huge difference. Besides, she didn’t think she’d ever been to a house party before. She almost couldn’t wait to have cake. She told herself that was the main reason she couldn’t wait for introductions to be over.

“This is Patsy,” informed her Philip, out in the backyard, next to a girl that must have been his age. “She can talk to animals.”

“What? You’re kidding! That’s so cool!”

Patsy shrugged one shoulder, avoiding her eye, self-consciously. Fanny figured she was just shy, and didn’t think too much of it, but after Philip was done introducing the rest of the girls and she slipped away, the boy pouted with his entire face and saw her leave with an air of frustration that told her there was more to her behavior.

“She’s been a little weird all week,” whispered Philip.

Fanny hummed and caught the way Mary Jefferson grimaced as he said that. She pursed her lips and then asked: “What happened to your sister?”

The five-year-old sighed. “She had a fight with her best friend, Julia.”

“Julia’s an Ungifted,” added Theo.

“And she doesn’t know our parents are Skilled. There’s a boy with a bracelet in their class, and Julia told Patsy they weren’t supposed to talk to him, so now Patsy is upset.”

Fanny grimaced. “That’s awful. So her friend doesn’t know that your sister can talk to animals like a total badass?”

Mary shook her head.

Fanny bit her bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. For a minute there, she almost forgot those kids had it pretty hard too, when their parents weren’t around. She wasn’t close to the girl yet, but she had a thing or two she could tell her, since she was more than familiar with those issues. Maybe she would tell her that day, or maybe next time. But she would, if the girl let her. That was the kind of thing Skilled children—and teenagers and adults—would always bond over. But even without that, she had a feeling she would have no problem bonding with those kids, with their easy smiles and funny tales there on that cold backyard. She was sure they would go inside soon, because it was January so there was no way she would go swimming, but Philip wanted to show her something on the pool so first she would do that.

Inside the kitchen, Thomas was staring out the window, looking amused.

“What’s so funny?” asked Alexander.

“Your kid is insane.”

Alexander shrugged.

Thomas took a cigarette to his lips, snapped his fingers, and lighted it with the flame at the tip of his thumb. “He’s having too much fun. It’s a little concerning, how comfortable he is showing off.”

“Says the guy that has never, in his life, used a lighter or a match.”

Thomas smirked. “I never said I was free of the sin I’m pointing out in him. Not everyone can be as subtle as you or your husband.”

Alexander dropped his own cigarette on an ash tray and folded his arms on top of his chest. “There is merit in how subtle I can be, asshole.”

Thomas waved a hand with disinterest. “Whatever. There’s nothing wrong in taking pride in it, you know? But in hiding it…” he sighed, “I guess it’s necessary, but that’s not fair.”

With a flicker of Alexander’s finger, Thomas’s cigarette was turned off, but he didn’t notice until he brought it to his mouth and inspired. Then he glared at Hamilton. “Motherfucker.”

“Regardless of the reasons I had to learn to be subtle, there are many advantages to it that I thoroughly enjoy.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” said Aaron, appearing through the door with a tray of empty glasses. “If you’re done smoking, I’d appreciate your presence in the living room.”

“We’ll be right there, love.”

Aaron hummed and didn’t stay to wait for them. They knew better than to make him go a second time. Besides, no matter how much he trusted the people he had over, he only felt calm when he knew exactly where everyone was to get a good estimation of how big a mess they would make—and that wasn’t only about the kids; his apprehension included the adults. Still, when he saw them all in the same place he felt a little intimidated; it was hard to follow any conversation once the kids came back inside. If it hadn’t been so cold, he would’ve encouraged them to go out again. Which was why Theo’s birthday was always better.

“This is really fun,” confessed Fanny, beaming. “I got to admit I didn’t think it could be so fun, considering you’re just a baby.”

Philip rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “I’m not even going to answer that. Anyway, it’s about to get more fun. Steph and Eddie aren’t here yet, but they’re coming.”

“They are?” asked Thomas, holding a glass of wine in one hand and a cupcake in the other. Then, he sighed dramatically. “Why?”

“Who are those?” asked Fanny.

“Friends. But Eddie’s parents are Ungifted, and so is Steph’s mom. Uncle Thomas doesn’t like them very much.”

“Oh.”

“They’re all very nice,” said Bellamy, who hadn’t moved from his favorite chair since they got there and was still nursing his first glass of juice. He’d eaten more cookies than all the kids combined though. “Thomas is just being prejudiced.”

“I’m not. I’ve met them. I judged them later.”

“You are being ridiculous, Thomas.”

“No, I’m not,” replied he. “You’re the ridiculous ones. You know…?” he shook his head. “Forget it. It’s not the time. But still, you guys should know better. I just had a meeting the other day with someone who gets it, and it was really refreshing.”

“You’re not listening to yourself,” said Aaron.

“I am. You just don’t like what I sound like.”

“Thomas, you work for the mayor’s office.”

“I know that, Aaron.”

Aaron hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek, for a moment before exposing his second argument. “And your daughter…”

Thomas’s face contorted in rage before Aaron could finish talking, effectively silencing him. That was the end of that conversation, but not the end of the party, and they both did their best to act like it never happened. Aaron was by far better than the alpha at it, but they managed, and once everyone had left and the kids had gone to bed, Aaron considered the event was long forgotten.

If only he could forget it as well.

“Aaron? Baby, are you okay?”

Aaron sighed. “I’m just… worried. Concerned. I…” he licked his lips, “I know that even Skilled people can be mean out of fear, to other Skilled. And that Ungifted can be kind. I believe separatists are… wrong. The way they see the world, is not accurate. It’s tainted by prejudice and fear and bad experiences.”

Alexander held his hand and squeezed. “Yes. But that’s not something you can convince them of. Thomas can be an idiot, but I’m sure he’ll see it, eventually.”

“I’m just worried it might take him too long to change his mind. What if something happens? What if…?”

“Aaron, look at me. He’s a grown man. And he’s wrong. And correcting him it’s not your responsibility.”

Thomas was his friend. And maybe Aaron couldn’t convince him, but he still could do _something_ , when it came to protect him. He just wasn’t sure his efforts would be appreciated, not at first. People never liked hearing that they were wrong, and nobody liked being forced to do, say, or stop saying something they believed in.

Then, as his mate tangled their feet together and shifted in his side to go to sleep, Aaron realized there was another way to get to him. He didn’t know if it was more or less intrusive, but he didn’t care. Thomas was his friend, and he cared about him. The alpha could close his eyes to the truth all he wanted, but Aaron wasn’t going to just stand and watch as he crashed against a wall.

֍

Like a lot of people, James Madison had struggled as a teenager without knowing what it was that he wanted to do with his life. He’d known he was smart and had been eager to prove it, but the thought of making a mistake and spending the rest of his life regretting it overwhelmed him. Ironically, that was what led him into the field he would become fascinated with: psychiatry and psychology, and in not too long he was on his way to Harvard’s Medical School.

As a psychiatrist, he could give pills to people, but he still had to listen to them talk about their problems. When it came to mental illness, there were many that couldn’t be just tested, and therapy was a big part of his job, which wasn’t a bad thing. He knew he was a particularly good one, too, and had a great reputation, especially among Skilled, that wouldn’t be put off by his black bracelet. Some of them, the ones that knew they would have to stay with him for a long time, knew what his skill was and knew there was no point in trying to lie to him. The new patients and those that still didn’t have a diagnosis didn’t, and that tended to make things harder for James, who had to bullshit his way to avoid saying how he knew they weren’t being completely honest, and that was tiring, so usually by Wednesday, he couldn’t wait for his week to be over.

Thursday was even worse. By the time he was attending Mr. K, he couldn’t wait for it to be over and checked his watch constantly. It was his second to last patient before lunch, and that was perhaps one of the reasons he found it so tedious. Just one of many. The guy was dull, too. So when his phone vibrated in his pocket, he excused himself and checked it right away, just to stop the story the guy was telling, and repressed a smile when he saw it was a text from Aaron inviting him to lunch. He took a little too long just to say yes and gathered his strengths to continue with the session. Mr. K was a fifty-year-old low-level alpha with an orange bracelet, and James had been his doctor for about seven months then. Things were a lot better than they had been in the start, luckily, but James would never be happy to see him and helping him was, maybe sadly, not exactly a priority of his. He knew that sounded bad, so he wouldn’t usually say it, and he did his best regardless. He knew how to be professional. But alphas that raised their eyebrows at working omegas would always piss him off. He just hoped his next patient, one Miss Lennox on her first session, would be an upgrade.

Not fifteen minutes later, he would remind himself to keep his hopes low and his complaints very, very quiet.

“I won’t be able to help you, Miss Lenox, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I thought my therapist called you,” replied she, defensively folding her arms on top of her chest.

“He did.”

“Then?” She huffed and uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again. “Look, I just need some pills, clearly. And the last guy couldn’t give them to me. So, can’t you do that?”

“I’m afraid it is not that simple. I need to be completely sure. The paperwork to prescribe pills to any Skilled is always tricky and extensive. The last thing we want is to be mistaken. Besides, don’t you have a child? You need to be responsible.”

“I know that, fuck.” She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. Then, her eyes returned to James, more precisely to his neck, and the anger in her face left room to deep disdain. “I know what I must look like to you, Doctor Madison.” She clicked her tongue and leaned back on the chair. “What does Mr. Madison do? They don’t mind you have such a demanding job? Who’s going to see the children?”

“My husband goes by the name of Jefferson, and no, he doesn’t mind.”

She arched her eyebrow. “You kept your last name?”

“Of course I did. I am the doctor, not my husband.”

She snorted a laugh before covering her mouth with a hand, some amusement finally making it to her face. Her shoulders still looked tense though. “That sounds reasonable.” She bit her bottom lip. “Look, it’s hard for me to talk about it all. I don’t want to do it if I can help it. But I’m tired. I’m very tired all the time and I just want to sleep.”

James considered doing what he rarely did, so he took a moment to think. The woman in front of him, the mid-level omega with a red bracelet, was clearly in pain. Her therapist was an old friend of him, from undergrad, and he had told him enough to reach the same conclusion they did, but James couldn’t go and make a diagnosis out of that. He couldn’t. He sighed. “There’s another way.”

“What is it?”

“You may not like it.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m a mind-reader.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

James hummed. “If you want, you don’t have to say it. Just think of it. Think of the basis. I can figure out the rest from there. But I won’t do it without your permission.” He couldn’t actively stop listening, but he’d gotten good at ignoring the noise that was always there, focusing on other things, like her expressions and the sound his own fingernails did against his desk while he waited for an answer.

Then finally, she nodded. “I’d like you to do that, please.”

“Very well.”

As far as first sessions go, that one was not nearly the worst nor the best he’d had. Remarkable if only because he’d offered to read her mind so early into their meeting. But it turned out okay. He scheduled another appointment for her soon, but he was almost convinced his colleague had been alright, and soon enough he would be getting her those pills she needed. Before that though, he would go out for lunch.

He met with Aaron not far away, and while they ate, they talked of banal, unimportant things, mostly work-related. Aaron’s company was always pleasant, especially for eating, for he always chose his words carefully and the subjects even more so. However, for a mind-reader, not even Aaron could remain a mystery. After dessert, they made their way slowly back to the psychiatrist’s office.

James linked their arms as they walked. “I noticed you’re worried about my husband.”

Aaron grimaced.

“I’m not sure where all your apprehensions are coming from, but I do understand your stance on the subject. And I agree with you. I’ve told Thomas so.”

“James, I…”

“Even so,” he twisted slightly so he could look into his eyes, “if there comes a time in which his actions may endanger him or my family, I would hugely appreciate it if you got involved and stopped him. Truly.”

“James…” there was a lump in his throat that kept him from saying anything else. He blamed the pregnancy.

“I trust you, Aaron, and I have no doubt you would never do something like that if it wasn’t in our best interest.” They kept walking in silence for a while. The air was cold, and the park was almost empty on that Thursday morning. “Mary fears she might be an Ungifted, and there has been no evidence so far to tell her otherwise. When Thomas says those things… he hurts her. She doesn’t understand that even without a skill, she could never be like the people Thomas talks about.”

“It’s hard to blame her. Even an adult would find it hard to try and explain that their environment kept them from turning into the subject of a separatist’s hatred.”

“Thomas is not a separatist. He is not.”

“James…” Aaron knew Thomas was a good person, but he’d been aligning more and more with the separatist speech ever since they met. And that had never been a problem. At the end of the day, the separatist agenda focused on the safety of the Skilled, equality, and justice. But when the movement first surged, way back in the seventies, it did so dangerously close to the first attack of the one Skilled terrorist organization that advocated for Skilled supremacy. Even if someone were against that, as soon as they expressed any sympathy for the separatist unofficial party, people would make the connection with the terrorist group that had been dissolved so many decades ago but was still very present in discussions about equality. It had been the only occasion in which Skilled caused any real damage and on purpose, but they would forever be proof that it could happen. They weren’t an inspiration, they were an embarrassment, but a lot of extremists Ungifted argued they were a powerful influence for the Skilled youth and used it to push discriminatory legislation.

It was all false, of course. The Skilled youth barely knew anything about that group, and were all aware that if it hadn’t been for them, it would be a lot easier to fight for Skilled rights. The first time Fanny heard of them, for example, she’d been seven and recently registered after the car accident that also orphaned her. She knew very little of the world, beyond that people now looked at her unsympathetically and her parents were gone, but she quickly understood that it was the fault of people like that that she was considered a threat when she’d never done anything wrong. Why else would anyone fear her?

Still, the actions of twenty radical individuals thirty years before she was even born shouldn’t count as evidence to treat her badly. It wasn’t rational of her either, her eleven-year-old had decided, to blame them for others’ lack of criteria. It was over a year she had reached the conclusion that the Ungifted were just too comfortable the way things were, oppressing a large amount of people with the excuse they could otherwise overpower them, and she hadn’t changed her mind. And yet, that terrible conclusion wasn’t keeping her from enjoying life as much as she could. She had made that decision years ago, but she felt like only now she was really doing it. She almost felt childish, but hadn’t she earned it? She had missed so much, she felt she was entitled to experience at least some of it now that she finally had the chance.

“When’s the next birthday? I feel dumb wishing to go to kids’ parties, but Philip’s was really fun!”

Laurens grinned. “You are a kid. Feeling dumb for having fun there is dumb.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up. They’re babies compared to me.”

“The next birthday in our calendar is actually of a grownup,” said Bellamy. “Aaron’s birthday is next month. And kids are invited, too. It lasts longer though. Last year the Jefferson girls all fell asleep at least four hours before anyone considered leaving.”

“That sounds fun. Wait, I don’t think I know what it is that he can do. He’s Philip’s other dad, right?”

Laurens bit his bottom lip. “Well… it’s kind of delicate. He tries not to tell people, if he can help it.”

“But since we both know, I think it’s alright if we tell you, so long as you promise you won’t tell anyone,” said Bellamy.

“Of course, I promise!”

“Alright… it’s not easy to explain…”

Laurens shook his head. “It is. If he tells you to do something, you do it. But he has to be touching you and speak in a certain way. It’s a weird thing with his vocal chords, I don’t know.”

“Wait, you mean like, mind control?”

“Not exactly. I mean, yes and no. If he tells you to stand up, you know he’s making it, you know it is not you who is making that decision, but you still stand up, you know? And then, it’s the worst because if he doesn’t tell you to sit back down or move or that you can do whatever you want, you _stay_ standing. I hate that shit.”

“That’s… kind of creepy.”

“He hardly ever uses it,” said Bellamy, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “But when people learn it, they usually get self-conscious and aren’t comfortable when he touches them. If you tense, he’s going to notice.”

“That’s why Alex is always touching him, actually,” added Laurens. “It’s a way of telling him he trusts him. And we all do, by the way. The Jefferson’s, us, we’ve all experienced it and we all know that he would never make us do something that could harm us.”

“The only times I’ve seen him doing it has been about being polite or healthy. Like, he tells his husband to go to bed when he’s been losing too much sleep, or to eat—”

“Or to stop talking when he’s about to screw up.” John shook his head and giggled. “What we’re trying to say is, he’s a good person.”

“I understand.” She did. It was a little spooky, to think that the guy could have so much power over her, but she trusted Bell and his judgement. She trusted Philip too. and she liked his parents. The boy liked his parents too, which meant a lot. Not because he loved them. Most kids loved their parents, even when they didn’t deserve it, but Philip _liked_ them. And that truly _meant_ something.

Sometimes, Fanny wondered if she had liked hers. She’d been seven when they passed; she should remember. But she didn’t. She just remembered thinking that they were better than the alternative, for sure, but that didn’t really mean anything.

The point remained that she couldn’t wait for Aaron’s birthday, even if he made her a little nervous, and she would be at her best behavior. Still, she hadn’t expected—stupidly of her she now knew—that there would be even more people to meet then.

“This is Aaron’s nephew, Johnny,” said Laurens, clasping the boy’s shoulder, “and he’s rather brilliant. For that, I feel obliged to tell him, really, don’t go to law school. Find something that will make you happy instead.”

His mother Theodosia raised her glass from across the room and yelled: “Amen!”

Johnny simply rolled his eyes, amused but unimpressed with the exchange.

His brother Fred chuckled and shook his head. “But John, we both grew with uncle Aaron and Alexander’s example. They like their jobs, don’t they?”

Laurens eyes widened. “You think they like their jobs?” He pressed a hand over his heart. “You’re so cute.”

“Tell me some more about that fraternity,” said Thomas, trying to get back to the conversation they were having before Laurens arrived with his family.

“There isn’t much we can do,” replied Johnny. “Now whenever they get in trouble, for anything, they give us shit and tell everyone it’s our fault, but we haven’t messed with them at all. I tried to speak with the dean and got nowhere.”

Thomas was fuming. James placed a placating hand in his arm, but it did very little to calm him.

Alexander had been watching for afar, and in that moment, he stood up and clapped his hands once. “Okay, that’s it. Do you guys know what time it is?”

Aaron rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming, but anyone who knew him well could see the hidden fondness in the subtle curve of his lips.

“It’s presents’ time!”

Aaron’s birthday had only started to be something he looked up to back in college, when he moved out of his uncle and aunt’s house and made some friends. Alexander, in particular, was obsessed with birthdays, and after Aaron got him something he called, ‘the best birthday present ever given by a person I recently met’, he made sure Aaron’s birthday was simply phenomenal that year, and then the year after, and the year after, and the one after that. Aaron was just very good at picking stuff for Alexander, and Alexander loved throwing parties. Through the years, they only grew in synchrony, and those events became more and more precious. Besides he liked receiving his loved ones in his home, but he liked even more that he was free of cleaning up everything after.

Thomas gave him a book by Yekaterina Alekseyevna which Aaron had been intending to buy. If it wasn’t because he knew the man to be a fan, he would’ve suspected James had been digging a little the last time they met.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“A friend told me I should read that book. Is it any good?” asked Fanny. She tried not to show how nervous she was, unsure of his response, since the few adults she’d asked before had mocked her and told her it wasn’t appropriate for her age, even when it was just fiction. She hadn’t dared to ask John just yet, out of fear he might think that way too.

“Oh, definitely,” said Thomas. “I mean, if you haven’t read anything else from her maybe you should start with one of her earlier publications, but still, you should totally read it. You see, the thing with Skilled authors is that, even in fiction and poetry, they seem to be attuned with you. It’s a completely different narrative, a different experience than to read something written by an Ungifted.”

Fanny pursed her lips and hummed. “I guess… that’s because our perspective is similar, no matter the circumstances?”

The alpha grinned and turned to look at Laurens. “I like her. She’s already smarter than you.”

Bellamy’s loud laughter was all the agreement he needed.

Aaron watched all this from his seat with a sleepy Theo resting against him and tried not to imagine little Mary suffering in silence.

Thomas was a good father, normally. He was. But he was blinded by politics and that was a dangerous thing. He couldn’t say he didn’t get it, for that would be a lie, but as a parent he ought to stay watchful to that sort of thing. Still, it wasn’t a time for him to intervene, and aside from a comment or two, conversation with Thomas was entertaining nevertheless.

He enjoyed his birthday, of course he did. It was a nice break from life with great company and great food. He even promised Fanny he would let her borrow the book once he was done with it, and then Bell joined their conversation with a couple of suggestions of his own, that clearly made the girl really happy, which was a great sight. Later, when even his sister sat by his side to expand the list of books she ought to read, he started worrying they may overwhelm her, but it didn’t happen, and barely even noticed when Alexander carried Theo upstairs to her bed, Thomas in tail with Mary.

Yes, Thomas was a good father. Aaron simply hoped he paid a little more attention. But wasn’t that the one thing that could be said about all parents?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, the title was a pun. Also, ‘Julia’ is based on the character that has like two lines in the 1995 movie, ‘Jefferson in Paris’, who basically went to school with Patsy and wants to be a nun.


	9. That feeling of safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a little encouraging, Hercules gets bold right at the best time… or not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another split chapter and why do I keep doing this? This story was like seven chapters at the beginning and now it’s seventeen but whatever. Enjoy!

Trials can be draining. Criminal cases usually are.

It’s understandable that a person accused of something cannot be prosecuted without proof, and that it is the other side’s responsibility to prove they’re guilty. After all, baseless accusations are relatively easy to make. But then again, some accusations are grave enough that the defendant, were to be found guilty, represents a genuine danger to society and ought to be kept away, just in case, for the greater good. And when there is enough evidence against them, it is _their_ responsibility to prove their innocence.

It should never be the victim’s. But sadly, when it comes to sexual assault, most of the time it is the victim’s job to reassure everyone that they are, indeed, a victim. Physical evidence isn’t always enough. They need to be perfect, if not martyrs, for a jury to respond quickly. Otherwise, the criminal can be excused for their violent, antisocial behavior, as if there was ever a situation in which overpowering another person into sexual intercourse was acceptable. As if they were victims of circumstances. As if the act of torturing another human being was natural. It is certainly scary, that some people think that way. It is scary that so many are willing to accept that as fact so quickly. It is scary that there are so many out there that clearly believe that given the opportunity, they too could engage in such a deplorable act.

So when the monsters are put away for good, it is a bittersweet thing. It is a message to those that perform those horrors that they are wrong, that they belong in a cage, and it is a reassurance for the entire world that that particular monster won’t hurt anyone outside, at least for a while. But it doesn’t right the wrong that was already done. The victims won’t necessarily feel safe again, nor will they ever forget what happened.

Reynolds was a monster, and Maria wasn’t sure jail would be enough to keep him away. But for the duration of the trial, she had barely seen him. For around two months, she was almost at peace. Almost. But then, after the verdict, with the screaming and the cursing, all her fears rushed back. All the unannounced visits, the leers, the jokes, the threats and his touch, it all came back. Eliza, as always, had been right. Going there hadn’t been a good idea. But she needed to see it. Needed to hear the verdict with her own ears and see how they took him away, locked him away for good, far away from her, where he really couldn’t hurt her. Yet somehow it didn’t have the effect she was longing for. It brought no peace. It brought no relief. It only brought memories.

The little thing inside her hadn’t kicked yet, but Maria was sure they were moving vigorously, twisting with something like anxiety, if they could get a glimpse of what she felt. She wasn’t sure how that worked yet. When Eliza tried to tell her exactly how much the little thing was growing, Maria wasn’t inclined to listen. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, or that thinking about it reminded her of bad things, but she just felt uncomfortable with how much of a responsibility it was. If she knew exactly what the fetus had or hadn’t, she knew exactly what her actions could affect. If she didn’t, then in the future, when she was dealing with a kid and that kid needed glasses or had asthma, she wouldn’t be able to torture herself and wonder if she had done anything that caused it, back when they were inside her. She didn’t tell Eliza that, because she knew the other could easily supply that information at any time, and because she feared the doctor might think she was silly.

And because it made her all fuzzy inside, to think that Eliza might be there, with them, in that possible future, to hear all about it, once it’s no longer important.

Eliza had told her going to hear the verdict was probably a bad idea, but when Maria said she wanted to go anyway, she didn’t insist, and instead called the hospital to say she had a family emergency and wouldn’t be able to make it the next day, so she could go with her. She sat by her side, and held her hand the whole time, and that was perhaps the one thing keeping her together. Even to hear that he got the max they could give him—25 years—didn’t help her nerves. But Eliza’s hand in hers did. She kept her grounded, _safe_ , and made her think of all the things they would do once it was all over, once Reynolds was locked away and they, they were free.

She was free. She was safe from Reynolds, for good, and that meant she was finally free.

“Well, that was… an experience,” said Eliza, once outside the courtroom. Her arm very firmly around Maria’s waist. She then turned to grin at her sister. “This calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” agreed Angelica. “I got to tell you though, I’m sorry that bastard is going to a Skilled prison. I’ve heard those places are _nice_.”

Maria giggled. “I’ve heard that too, at least when it comes to basic needs and stuff. But painless or not, blockers are always an ugly punishment. And he’s going to be there for a long time. Thank you.”

Angelica gave her a candid smile. “You’re welcome. Let’s go eat now. I’m starving!”

“Me too!” added a voice coming from behind them. The owner of said voice then blushed, expression vibrant with embarrassment. “Can I say that? I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”

The women all chuckled, watching the nervousness grow in the ME.

“Yes, Will, you can say that. In fact, you should come. Join us. We’ll go grab a bite in that new place, a block from here?”

“Oh, nice!” He was happy to be invited, because he hated eating alone, and he usually had to. “We’re going to celebrate? Honestly, I was never worried. Your reputation precedes you, Angelica.”

“I couldn’t have won without Aaron’s help,” she admitted. “He deserves some credit. But since he’s pregnant I can’t invite him a drink as a thank you. What do you suggest? You know him better than I do.”

William shrugged. “I think he likes cake?”

“You think?” She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. She looked around the restaurant, which was reasonably empty for so late on a Wednesday, and smirked. “You know what? Ask him if he’s free for lunch.”

“What? Why me?”

“Just do it!”

William sighed dramatically but was quick to take out his phone and make the call, smiling openly when the other man answered. “Aaron, hey! Angelica and I were wondering if you already had lunch? We want to celebrate, you know, for today. We’re at a restaurant near the courthouse.”

“ _I was about to grab something quick to eat on my way home, actually. I guess I could be there in a few minutes._ ”

“Awesome!”

Aaron, about six and a half months pregnant and showing, arrived at their table in less than eight minutes. He was pleasantly surprised to find Eliza and Maria there as well.

“Hi,” said Maria. “You left so soon after the verdict that we didn’t have time to thank you.”

“Well, you didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, we do,” replied Angelica. “Thank you. Lunch’s on me today. Order whatever you want.”

“That’s very generous of you, but…”

“You have to try the chocolate cake,” said Eliza, interrupting him with a smile.

He almost insisted, but he was starving, and he loved chocolate cake. So, he stayed. Eating with good company was always a pleasant experience, and in the past two months he’d gotten a lot closer with the oldest Schuyler—with everyone on that table, really—and conversation came effortlessly, jumping from one subject to the other, breaking into a million simultaneous little chats in between only some of them at times but never really isolating anyone, not even when William asked Aaron: “What do you think of that new teacher? Caroline?”

Aaron shrugged. “She seems nice. It was about time they hired a Skilled in that school.”

“I mean, she has a white bracelet.”

Maria frowned. “What is that supposed to mean? A Skilled is a Skilled, no matter the color of their bracelet. Sure, they have it a little easier, but still,” she shrugged, “they get it.”

Aaron nodded. “A good friend of mine has a white bracelet, and honestly, before I met him I was a little bit like you, Will. I mean I thought, if their bracelets are that light, are their skills even a thing? Like, what can they do? Grow healthier hair? No one’s going to give them shit about it. And statistically, there’s a lot more of them, so I always thought they had it easier.” He shook his head. “But I was wrong.”

“Not that I’m not interested in that, but do you really have to talk about your kids’ school right now?” asked Angelica. Children weren’t her favorite topic, if she had to be honest.

Aaron smiled sheepishly. “I guess not. I mean, it’s a thing that only concerns two out of five people in this table. I might as well start questioning Maria about her pregnancy.”

Maria snorted. “If you want to know anything, ask Eliza. She knows more than me. About everything.”

Aaron shook his head. “Let me say just one last thing that I know because of the school,” he grinned. “Do you remember Thomas Eddy?”

William frowned. “Who?”

“He was at Franklin’s office when we met. The one that was divorced? He had an orange bracelet.”

“Oh,” William nodded, “I think I remember him. His ex-wife was an alpha, right?”

Aaron nodded. “That’s him. Anyway, it turns out, he’s the warden at Oz.”

“The Skilled prison?” asked Angelica, immediately interested. Oz was the largest Skilled prison on the state.

“Yes.” His subtle smile turned wider. “I called him when I left the courthouse. And he agreed that since his crimes had been committed without the use of his skill, but his mere brute force, he belonged in the C block, with the most dangerous criminals.”

“Serves him right. Still I bet that place isn’t that bad,” said Angelica.

“Not institutionally, no, because prisoners are treated like people, but,” he smirked, “prisoners are still prisoners. And they may not get anyone killed—”

“That’s true, I was reading the statistics the other day and they don’t have more than three deaths every year.”

“No, they don’t. And obviously, I am not one to plan for a murder. Still, I believe we should all remember that no one likes an alpha who rapes an omega.” He poured the rest of his soda into his glass. “Whatever the outcome, he’s not going to have it easy there.”

“Now that’s a relief,” said Angelica, sincerely yet a little too intensely, but the conversation drifted away from that topic quickly, and things got calmer and lighter. Like the celebration that it should be.

֍

William liked to feel like he was a part of things, though he didn’t get that many opportunities to do so. That’s why he took every offer, every chance he had to meet with his friends, especially since he never had that many while growing up. He was shy. Awkward. But somehow, as an adult, he found that he had quite a lot of those, in his opinion. He felt lucky. Blessed, even.

He liked visiting the precinct when he had the time and an excuse. It was lighter than his office, with actual windows and people. That was perhaps what he liked the most, the people there that he liked and didn’t see often. They were friends, even if they were just work-friends, especially with detectives Mulligan and Lafayette, that had even visited his home and knew his children. He’d known Hercules for years, but he didn’t think they had been as close as they were now, after that. Hercules had always been a perceptive individual, but he tended to stay out of people’s business. Now, he always asked William when he noticed he was upset, and William loved venting off, so that was definitely an improvement to their friendship. On the other hand, William had barely known Gilbert de Lafayette before that time they had dinner at his place, but that understandably accelerated things. Eddie always asked about him, and the detective in turn asked about the kid as well. If he had thought William had been exaggerating when he’d told him he would call and text at all hours with questions in the future, he shortly had discovered it had been accurate, and never seemed bothered with it. Maybe they even weren’t just work-friends. Maybe they were just friends.

Thus, when just a small detail on a case gave him a reason to stop by the precinct, he went fully intending to ask the boys out for lunch. He did it often, but many times they weren’t available, or they were too busy, or in town doing something, or only one was there, but every day was different, so he never stopped trying. That occasionally paid off, like then, when he found that both were about to go out to eat something quick, and they were happy to include William.

Well, they said they were happy.

William knew they liked him, that they honestly considered him a friend, and they weren’t bothered by the things that so many times had kept him from making friends. He didn’t think they were tired of him nor anything. But he could see that his presence there wasn’t such a pleasant addition as they tried to say. His wife would tell him that he spent too much time staring at corpses and that had atrophied his ability to read people, but William disagreed. He had no trouble noticing the feelings of those detectives. He was pretty sure most people that worked with them knew. He was sure the captain did. Maybe Lee didn’t, because he was kind of inept, but aside from him, detectives and uniforms around them tended to share looks or simply give them more space, sometimes throwing jokes that would fly over the couple’s heads.

When one detective left to use the restroom, William decided that it was about time someone said something, and since he was their friend, why not him?

“You should talk to Lafayette,” he said, in between one bite and the other.

Hercules frowned. “What?”

“He’s the guy you’ve told me about, isn’t he? The one you think you’re not interesting enough to ask out? Dude, talk to him. Seriously.”

Hercules stared at his friend in shock. He never doubted William was smart. He was a doctor, after all. But he wasn’t particularly observant. He knew he had talked about it with him a few times, but he never gave anything away in their talks that could tell him who he was talking about. That meant he could see it from the way he interacted with Gilbert, and that was disastrous. If even William could see it, did that mean Gilbert could, too?

“Hercules, really. It’s obviously mutual!”

Could it be?

Hercules didn’t want to believe it. It was scary, to have any hope of something so wonderful and then crash against a hostile reality. Gilbert was his friend, his co-worker, and another alpha that never gave him a reason to suspect he was queer. They were good friends, but they never flirted, never did anything that could be interpreted as flirting. Hercules kept his feelings to himself, and only ever told William about them.

But if William was saying it was mutual, could he be right? There must have been something he saw that gave him that idea. Maybe if Hercules paid a little more attention, he would see it too. It was a good thing they spent so much time together. Surely, he would see it sooner rather than later.

It took him about three days, to make up his mind. It wasn’t easy, they were just friends, and Gilbert was respectful of their boundaries, but there was one thing, one thing that made Hercules doubt, made him consider there could be something else for them.

That thing was a look.

It was a longing look, and it wasn’t the first time he caught Gilbert with it when he thought Hercules wouldn’t notice. He would have it from time to time, often after Hercules said something insightful about a case, or talked about his family, or something he was passionate about. But only when he thought Hercules wasn’t looking. When their eyes met, Gilbert would always put on a fast smile on his face and his shoulders would tense slightly.

Hercules wouldn’t have listened to William’s words if it hadn’t been for that look. He had told himself it couldn’t mean what he wanted it to mean, but if other people were telling him about it then maybe it did. Maybe it wasn’t just wishful thinking on his part. Maybe he had a chance. He took a deep breath and said: “Hey, are you doing anything this Saturday?”

“Saturday? No, I don’t think so. Captain Washington told me I couldn’t show my face around here after five this month, much less on a weekend,” he smiled sheepishly. He had a tendency of abusing his overtime on the first week of every month and March hadn’t been the exception. “What for?”

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in going to an Escape room?”

Gilbert arched his eyebrows. “An Escape Room?” They solved mysteries for a living, but he had heard those things were fun. He’d never been to one though, because he didn’t think his friends would’ve enjoyed it. Maybe it could be a good bonding experience though, for a team of detectives. He looked around to see if anyone else was up for it, but only Lee was near, and Gilbert didn’t like him much. He pouted.

“Yeah… and maybe we could go for drinks later?”

That made his heart jump. He turned slowly, to give Hercules his entire attention. “Like on a date?”

Hercules gulped and nodded. He was normally a confident guy, suave, that could talk beautiful people into anything. But there, standing in front of Gilbert, he was a bunch of nerves and had lost all his tricks. He was sweating. “Yeah. Like a date. I’d like to go on a date with you. If you want.”

Gilbert’s face broke into the brightest smile, and Hercules felt all ticklish. “I’d like that too.”

“Great. Saturday, then?”

He nodded. “Saturday.”

Hercules turned around and left.

Gilbert wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him, and he wanted to laugh, and he wanted to tell everyone he knew that Hercules finally, _finally_ would be his. But how? Why? He never thought that could happen. Never even suspected Hercules could be remotely interested in him. Besides, they worked together, they would have to be discreet before they disclosed— _if_ they ever got to that point—and yet he had gone and asked him out in the middle of the squad room! Sure, no one had noticed a thing, but he was sure he looked insanely happy and if anybody asked, he might say the truth. He didn’t feel like it was real quite yet. He would have to wait two full days to truly buy it.

When the night fell, he was way too excited to close an eye. He tried watching a movie, but he couldn’t focus. He jumped each time his phone did. But that turned out to be a good thing, for he noticed the second his cousin texted him asking about something unimportant. He took that as proof that she was awake and free, and simply called her instead of answering.

“Hey Ad, I don’t have the least idea. Google it. But anyway how’s it going?”

“ _I’m bored as hell but you sound chirpy,_ ” she informed him, sounding suspicious. “ _Anything you want to tell me?_ ”

Gilbert giggled. “Well, maybe…”

“ _Just tell me already!_ ”

“Okay, okay, gee…” he threw himself on the bed and sighed, staring at the ceiling with a goofy smile, “Hercules asked me out. We’re going on a date this Saturday.”

His cousin gasped. “ _What? Oh, Gil, that’s so cool! I’m so happy for you, I know how much you like him. Does this mean you’ll stop texting me every day to say how handsome he is and how sad you are? Yes?_ ”

Gilbert pursed his lips. “I mean, I won’t be sad anymore, sure, but I doubt I’ll stop telling you how handsome he is. The world should hear it. He’s—”

“ _I know, I know. He’s dreamy. Built like a Greek god. And hella smart too. I’ve heard it all._ ”

“You’re no fun.”

Adrienne laughed unimpressed. “ _I’m super fun! Ask any of your friends. Lou loves me. But anyway, when am I going to meet him?_ ”

“Not soon. You’ll scare him.” He grinned and rolled over to start charging his phone. “But you got to help me. What should I wear? We’re…”

They talked for almost two hours, discussing tactics and clothes and what was okay and what was not for a first date. Adrienne was Gilbert’s main advisor, his conscience, too, and his best friend. But still, in spite of all her help, when Saturday came, he felt completely out of his element. He was used to be the one asking out; planning wasn’t his forte, but he liked being spontaneous and it had worked so far for him. To think that Hercules, his co-worker, had planned something for them, filled him with nerves and excitement. He was eager to go, but he was also a little worried he would do something that could ruin it. On his part he wouldn’t mind, but what about Hercules? He didn’t want all his hard work to go to waste.

They got together at four, outside the building for the game they would be playing, with nervous grins, shy hands and loud, racing heartbeats.

“Hey,” said Hercules, biting his bottom lip, “you look great.”

Gilbert tried to. He had spent over three hours getting ready. It was nice to hear it, though, so he giggled and took the chance to eye Hercules up and down one more time. He looked _delicious_. He almost said ‘ _yummy_ ’ out loud. “You too. Real handsome.”

They stood there, awkwardly, for about a minute before Hercules cleared his throat and pointed at the building. “Let’s get in, then?”

Gilbert nodded, and they went in. They walked slowly, close to each other, a little closer than what they normally would, but never touching. It was intimate, but still casual enough that no one else would notice. They were both in time to take a step back and forget all about it.

They didn’t know it, but they were both hoping the other wouldn’t.

Once inside and registered and ready to play, things got more normal. They were still extremely aware that it wasn’t just a regular day, that they were out on a _date,_ but jokes came more easily, and their smiles got a little wider, probably thanks to the strangers around them, that gave them an excuse to focus on something else before the game truly started. They were not worried about that; they were detectives. They solved mysteries for a living. Surely it would be easy for them.

It should have been easy. It wasn’t.

They could blame it on the others that were locked with them, or in the redaction of the clues, or that it wasn’t real, so the pressure wasn’t the same as always, or in many other things. But the fact remained that their performance was less than impressive, and by the time it was over, they were happy that they wouldn’t have to see those people again. It had been fun anyway, but just a tiny bit embarrassing.

“Well, that was…”

“Humbling.”

“Yeah!” They both burst out laughing loudly and their shoulders brushed softly. The touch was an accident and it lasted less than a second, but it sent shivers down Gilbert’s spine.

He gulped. “Okay, should we go have dinner now?”

Hercules had made a reservation in a restaurant a block from the Escape Room, so they were seated in minutes, their experience still fresh, the jokes still filling the air. While playing, their familiarity had replaced the awkwardness that wanted to settle in, to turn what was often enjoyable into something mortifying and scary. It was inevitable, because the situation they were in was different. It was a bet of sorts.

But it was worth it, to take that risk, to change what was normal and good in order to achieve something better, something greater, something that was good, too, if they only dared to take that step. They were taking it, and the only thing stopping them from having a great time was unnecessary apprehension. They both wanted to be there. They would make it work.

And so, Gilbert placed his hand on the table, palm facing up, and Hercules put his on top. There, as easy as breathing, and they were holding hands. They kept them there even while they ate. The food was delicious, but the company was even better, and before they knew it, they’d been sitting there for hours and their waiter started glaring from a distance.

“Well, I guess we should get going.”

“Yeah…” Gilbert bit his bottom lip. “Would you like coming to my place?”

Hercules would like that. Any doubts he had, any fears about taking things too fast, vanished that moment, as he stared into his eyes. He nodded. “Sure. I’d like that.”

Gilbert’s place wasn’t far, and the minute he opened the door, they were devouring each other’s mouths with an urgency and passion that had only been growing since they exited the restaurant. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and great. The bitterness in their kiss only made it all the more exciting. Whoever dared to say an alpha shouldn’t enjoy that had no idea what they were talking about. And if it was really wrong, they didn’t care. It wasn’t important at that point, right or wrong, when it felt so good, touching and kissing and biting all the skin that was available. And when that wasn’t enough, getting rid of the clothes that were bothering them became as important as breathing, maybe even more. It was impossible to tell how long they lasted, it probably wasn’t that much, but it was a remarkable experience nevertheless, and it took them several minutes to catch their breath enough to talk afterwards. For a little bit, all they did was smile and laugh and compliment each other. Then Gilbert invited Hercules to stay the night, and they got more comfortable to do just that.

Later, just as they were drifting off to sleep, Gilbert whispered: “I don’t like the word _Ungifted_.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t bother you? How it seems to imply that you’re lacking something?”

Hercules pursed his lips. “I mean… maybe it would, if the Skilled were called _Gifted_ instead, but since you’re not, it doesn’t really bother me.”

“It’s… pejorative.”

“It’s not. And it’s even a little accurate, I mean, compared to the average Skilled I’m pretty sure we’re all quite boring.”

Gilbert turned to stare at him wide-eyed. “What? Don’t be ridiculous! You could never be boring, silly.”

Their pillow talk ended shortly after that, at least for that night. That wonderful, wonderful night, in which a pleasant sleep took both of them. Gilbert liked sharing his bed with someone, no matter what people said, regardless of Hercules hogging all the blankets, he loved it. He loved having someone to hug or having that someone hugging him. He liked it when their feet or legs brushed and tangled, and when their hands met. He didn’t think he had slept that good in a long, long time. And the morning after? Waking up to Hercules’s gorgeous, sleeping face, it only made everything better.

“I think I’m gay,” mumbled Hercules, first thing after he opened his eyes to find the other smiling at him.

Gilbert snorted, leaning on one elbow to tower over the other alpha. “You think? Because darling, what we did last night was pretty gay.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grinned. “It was, wasn’t it?” He tangled his fingers on Gilbert’s hair and pulled him close for a kiss. “Could we do it again?”

Gilbert purred. “Yes, we could, _chérie_ , of course we could.”

There was nothing comparable to being with an alpha. Alpha kisses were bitter, their limbs tended to be bigger, firmer, and their erections were impossible to ignore, and some people disliked that. Gilbert respected it, but honestly couldn’t understand it. He saw the appeal on omegas, of course, but he found nothing more intoxicating than an alpha’s hunger. When an alpha loved, they acted as if they intended to consume their partner, eat them whole, and Gilbert loved that. Under Hercules ‘s large, powerful hands, Gilbert got hungry too, and hours weren’t enough to satiate him. But he couldn’t think of anything more entertaining at the moment than rolling around naked on his bed, so that wasn’t a problem. They had nothing to do that Sunday.

Still, showering together also sounded like an exciting panorama, so they did that before lunch, for Hercules had offered to cook something but they needed to buy some groceries for that.

He was waiting for Gilbert to pick a shirt to lend him when his phone rang. Gilbert’s face as he answered had been bright, happy, but it changed in a matter of seconds. It turned dark, concerned. Hercules was immediately worried.

“Who was that?” he asked the moment the call was over.

“My cousin. She’s a cop on Staten Island.”

Hercules narrowed his eyes, perceptive as always. “Is something wrong?”

Gilbert nodded, licking his lips. “She thinks so.”

Hercules grabbed the shirt Gilbert had taken for him and put it on. Then, he nodded towards the door. “Let’s go. Don’t keep her waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I checked Google for ideas for the date and seriously what the hell? Why are there so many Escape Rooms in NYC? I don’t think there is a single one in my country! (I don’t know, I haven’t checked. It might be an exaggeration… might!)


	10. The missing child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uff! For a moment there I thought I wouldn't finish this chapter in time! But, it's still Friday here, so, here you go!

Gilbert’s cousin was his best friend. They hadn’t lived close while growing up, but whenever they met it was like no time had passed, and they managed to talk and play like they saw each other every day. It was, perhaps, his most important connection, and she was the one person he trusted the most in the entire world, maybe even more than his own mother. He loved her, but that didn’t stop him from being objective. Adrienne could be rather scary, especially to the fools that intended to have a relationship with Gilbert. That was why he normally would delay introductions as much as he could, but some things couldn’t be helped. Her voice told him more than her words. She had been vague, but it was clear to him that whatever that was bothering her was serious, and he needed to be there. Still, when she called, she told him it was a police matter. Surely that meant Hercules would be welcomed?

Maybe he should’ve asked him to leave. That was the sensible, respectful thing to do, probably. But he wasn’t a sensible person, and his cousin knew that. He just didn’t want to say goodbye just yet. What if it was something really small? What if they needed help of a third anyway? Most likely, Hercules would be helpful.

His hand around his for the entire drive there certainly was.

“Hello!” He yelled the moment she opened the door for them. “This is detective Hercules Mulligan. Hercules, this is my cousin, detective Adrienne de Noailles. I hope you don’t mind I brought him?”

“Not at all! It’s nice to meet you.” As she shook his hand, her grin turned mischievous for a moment. “Finally.”

Hercules arched his eyebrows.

Gilbert cleared his throat. “You said there was something wrong?”

“Yeah,” her expression sobered, “and it’s not pretty. Can I get you something? I just made coffee. Let’s sit in the living room.” She guided them there and watched as they took a seat side by side on her brown leather couch. There was a thick file on the coffee table; the one thing that looked out of place on the cozy room of bright yellow walls covered with pictures of smiling people. After a moment’s hesitation, she hurried to the kitchen where she served three coffee mugs with quivering hands, only to return with the same fast pace. Still, as she sat in front of them on her favorite chair, she didn’t say anything. She took the mug to her lips and breathed in, as if she needed the scent to find her focus. Maybe she did.

“A kid went missing, somewhere between Friday and early yesterday,” she said.

Lafayette frowned. “Really? How come there’s no amber alert?”

“He ran away from Foster Care three months ago. Technically, he’s a runaway and if a policeman sees him, we must take him to Child Services.”

“Okay…”

“But he’s a Skilled. He ran because another kid saw him stop a glass from falling… with his mind. The kid said he was going to report him, so he ran.”

“And you didn’t take him to child services when you met him.”

Adrienne’s expression turned troubled. “And now there’s no point in reporting him missing, and it’s my fault.” She took a shaky breath. “I visited him every Saturday, to make sure he was doing alright. Helped him with some books he was reading. He was only in fourth grade when he stopped going to school, but he’s really smart. And he wants to take all the exams when he’s over eighteen, finish high school…” she sniffed, “and now I don’t know where he is. But his room was a mess. I couldn’t find blood, but he’s not messy, and everything was on the floor, or broken. His clothes and books were still on the room, even his phone, but he was nowhere to be found. I know someone took him, Gil, I _know it_.”

“Okay, we’re going to find him, Ad, I promise,” he licked his lips and passed an arm around her shoulders, “but you said that there was something else?”

“Yes,” she rubbed at her face with both hands. “I believe he’s not the only one.”

“Wait, you mean…?”

“I believe I found a pattern. It’s going to sound crazy, but I know I’m right. Look,” she opened a file, where the first page showed the picture of a young boy, “this is Roger, the kid who disappeared yesterday. He’s not ten yet, a Skilled boy from Foster Care, but is not registered yet, right?”

Gilbert nodded. “Okay.”

“And this,” she put Roger’s picture away and showed them another of a different kid, “is Olga; she’s eight, also from Foster Care, and her friend says she went missing over a weekend as well, after she’d been on the run for a couple of weeks. She’s also an unregistered Skilled.” She turned that picture as well, to reveal a third. “This is Daniel, he’s nine…”

“Wait,” Hercules interrupted her, “how did you hear of them?”

“I talked to some other kids, who were living with Roger in a clandestine refuge for kids who run from Foster Care. I’m only telling you about it because I want to find these kids, so please, be discreet.”

“Don’t worry,” said Gilbert, dropping a kiss on her temple and rubbing her arm, “we won’t. All these kids went missing from the same place?”

Adrienne shook her head. “No, that’s what makes it worse. They weren’t even on the same state.”

“What?”

“Olga went missing in New Jersey, last month. And Daniel disappeared from Pennsylvania, two months ago.”

Gilbert released her to hunch over the file and inspect it, noticing there were at least a dozen of other pictures. “Please don’t tell me these go all the way to the West Coast,” he whispered, horrified.

“After I spent the morning with them, they told me about this other refuge, in Delaware. It took me almost four hours to get there, but…” she retrieved the file and grabbed six different photographs, “it was worth it. There, I found even more kids with stories like this. And they told me about other refuges. I’m taking a personal leave this week, and I’ll go to Minnesota, which is the further they told me about, but they said other kids have warned them about it. Gil, I’m terrified. It sounded like it had been going around for a while. The oldest case so far is this,” she showed them a picture of a small blonde girl, “Jenny, she was seven, and has been missing for about a year, according to the kids. She ran with her brother after the state of Illinois gave custody to their aunt, who was Ungifted and abusive, and was going to register them.”

“But she didn’t make it to the appointment at the Register Center, right?” muttered Gilbert.

Adrienne nodded.

“So, whoever is doing this takes the kids after they learn they’re Skilled, but before that information makes it to any official means.”

“And they’re all children no one cares about enough to look.”

“Ad, this is huge. Are you sure there’s no way to make this an official investigation without giving away the kids at the refuge?”

“If you can come up with something, let me know, but I have no idea.”

“Let me take a closer look at this?”

“Sure.”

He took everything she had on the case with him, to his apartment. He wanted to study it carefully, sure that she already had memorized it all, and see if there were any clues she hadn’t seen, any other coincidences, or some sort of link besides the victims’ profile. Maybe something about the time or the place they had been taken, maybe something in what the kids had been doing, anything. He wasn’t very optimistic, given the kids’ living situation, but that was their only shot. Outside Adrienne’s place, Hercules pressed an urgent kiss to his lips, taking him back to the present for an instant, and asked if he wanted to be left alone or wanted his help. Gilbert didn’t have to ponder his answer for even a second, but the fact that Hercules asked warmed his heart. He joined their lips one more time, instigating a far more calming contact, and gave him a tender smile before asking for his help. Regardless of whatever that was going on between them, Hercules was a talented detective, and he would take all the help he could get with that case, which at the moment wasn’t much, since they had to be discreet.

There weren’t many other kisses that day, but they traded some when one pointed something out or offered to bring coffee. Not exactly Gilbert’s definition of the perfect Sunday, but it came close to it, if he could forget for a moment what they really were investigating. The file was huge. His cousin was a more than competent investigator. They did nothing but study it all day long, making some research on the side on their computers. There wasn’t much they could do on the field on a Sunday, without contacts among the children and keeping it quiet, so they focused on what they already had. A couple of fresh eyes always had a chance of seeing something she hadn’t, so that was good. Still, by the time the night fell, they hadn’t made such progress. After Hercules’s yawning started to get distracting, Gilbert offered him to stay the night, and begged him to go to sleep, if only to lay down a little. The detective tried to protest, but when he couldn’t finish the sentence because of yet another yawn, he had to retreat with a sheepish smile and a soft, yearning kiss to Gilbert’s lips and temple. It wasn’t a bad addition to a night’s work, he thought, knowing that Hercules would be waiting on his bed. It certainly was a tempting thing, and if the case hadn’t been as alarming as it was, if his blood hadn’t been running so hot with anger and worry, he probably would’ve joined him only minutes after he left, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because he knew there had to be something to be found, to turn the wicked, hopeless situation into a real case that could be solved. So he kept working. He kept reading and he kept typing to the point in which his surroundings stopped mattering to him. He only noticed the sun had risen when he heard Hercules’s raspy voice from the hallway, saying: “Hey, did you get any sleep last night?”

Gilbert could only turn to face him with a startled look, bewildered by the time, but not repentant in the slightest. He shook his head. “Take a look at this.”

“What’s that?” Hercules frowned and sat down next to him, pulling the computer closer to him. “Is that the Buffer’s website?”

Gilbert nodded. “Read that.”

“A tour?”

“It’s been going on for over a year. They started at Oregon and are now in New York. Got here about a week ago. And they will be gone soon, too, moving to Connecticut.”

“You honestly think it’s them?”

“It fits!” He grabbed the file and fished Jenny’s picture. “They were in Illinois nine months ago…” he grabbed another picture, “this kid, Harry, the kids told Ad he went missing six months ago, from Ohio. Guess where they were six months ago. Hercules, it’s them. And we need to say something.”

“What about keeping the shelters a secret?”

Gilbert groaned and stood up, pacing around with a look of determination on his face. “I know that’s important. And we got to try to keep it that way, of course, but we cannot do this as private investigators. We need resources. We need to contact the police in every state as well.”

Hercules looked unsure, and Gilbert couldn’t blame him. Leaving the shelters out of the picture, they had little to no evidence, and not everyone was as understanding as they were. They worked with traumatized children often, they knew all sorts of stories from social services and how it wasn’t exactly the best place to grow up in; they acknowledged the discrimination the Skilled faced. But many other police officers wouldn’t. They couldn’t be sure they would get allies on other states, people that wouldn’t haunt the innocent, remaining children down. But they still had to _try_.  They couldn’t be paralyzed by fear, with so much at stake. Those kids were smart, were still free, even if they were vulnerable; above and beyond, the police or even social services wouldn’t be as bad as the kidnappers, especially if Gilbert’s theory was true. Such an openly anti-Skilled group couldn’t be doing anything good. It turned his stomach, to think of what they were doing to those children.

֍

There are many reasons for a person to stay up all night. Depending on their age, those reasons may vary from simple pleasures and leisure activities to work-related things for the older, and then there are transversal factors such as fears and pain. It happens. Students do it all the time. Adults too, but they usually don’t brag about it, because they hardly ever do it for fun, and most responsible workers keep it to themselves. Parents though, those may complain about it loudly, and often.

Aaron Burr had spent many nights awake, for a number of reasons. When he’d been a child, he’d had nightmares often, and he still did, from time to time. He was also better at studying, when the night fell. That even became convenient, by the time his children were born, but he joined his husband in his complaints when the cause had been completely out of his control, and especially when it could’ve been avoided.

But how could they have been avoided? One might ask. Well. That was a strategy they were still perfecting, an issue they had yet solved. Like on that Sunday evening, when during dinner, Philip gasped, interrupting the conversation abruptly.

Alexander frowned. The look on the kid’s face meant bad news for them parents, usually. “What is it?”

Philip bit his bottom lip wearing an expression of pure panic. “I… I forgot I had to bring cupcakes, for Jane’s birthday.”

“Cupcakes, Philip? Really? What are your friends bringing?”

Philp hummed. “I think Patsy is bringing juice. Stephen is bringing chips and I’m not sure about Eddie.”

Alexander threw his head back, grumbling to himself that of course Philip had to bring the one thing they didn’t have in the house.

“Where can we get those in the middle of the night?”

“Maybe we can bring them to you later?” muttered Aaron, giving Alexander a questioning look. He was trying to drive less nowadays, and he would be busy all morning. Judging by the grimace he got in return, Alexander wasn’t any more available than him. “Well…” he licked his lips, “there is another way.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“We’re not making those from scratch!” None of them even knew how to make cupcakes, let alone at least two dozen without a proper mold.

Aaron sighed and rubbed his face with a hand. “It’s probably going to take all night. But it’s the only way.”

“I’m so sorry!” said Philip, eyes apologetic and trembling lips, guarantying either parent would not be capable of chastising him.

“It’s fine. But finish your dinner soon. It’s late.”

It was a part of being parents, really, having to fix that sort of thing. Many could argue that it was wrong to do so, that kids weren’t learning that their actions had consequences that way, but Aaron disagreed. There were many ways of teaching that lesson, ways in which the retribution would be proportional to the offense, but being the only kid that couldn’t participate in a school activity because he’d forgotten something they told him early in the morning, when he was sleepy, hours before he would see his parents again and days from the time when he would need it, just didn’t sound fair. There always would be other opportunities to teach Philip that sometimes, his actions would have unwanted, unplanned results. They had time to teach him that.

“I’ll do it,” said Alexander, standing by the counter while Aaron collected the things they would need. “You have work in the morning.”

“You have work too.”

“Yeah, but…”

Aaron shook his head. “I can ask Fersen to cover for me if I’m too tired. Don’t worry.”

Alexander pursed his lips, one hand casually making its way to Aaron’s forearm. “Do you think we’ll be faster if we do it together?”

Aaron hummed, a playful grin appearing fast. “I’m not sure, actually.” He leaned to press a short kiss to his husband’s lips. “But let’s check.”

Staying up all night often guaranteed a following day of exhaustion. Still, for one reason or another, it tended to be the best solution to a problem, or simply, the one course of action that made sense. At many points during the night sleep would try to force its way through, because it was a chaotic natural thing that knew nothing of consequences and responsibilities, only of needs, but there were strategies to fight it. Coffee, determination, and laughter, too, were some of the best warriors against sleep. They couldn’t do a thing for the following day, but at least for those hours, those long, silent, alien hours where everything felt a little bit out of place, they helped. A lot. So it was a good thing Alexander could always make Aaron laugh, and vice versa.

֍

On Monday morning, Gilbert hesitated by his desk for the incredible amount of seven minutes. For seven minutes, he wondered if he really was making the right thing. But then he stopped wondering, and he started acting, because that was what was needed of him at a time like that.

“Sir, there’s a case that needs your attention,” he said, standing by the door of the captain’s office.

Washington frowned with concern, and gestured for him to get in. “What is it?”

The detective dropped a file on his desk. “Missing children.”

Washington started reading right away and asked no more questions. Missing children were always a priority. However, soon enough he stopped inspecting every detail and just flipped through the pages with a frown on his face. “These are all cases from other states. Old cases, too.”

Lafayette shook his head. “I know it may not be clear at first, but all those were kidnapped by the same organization. And they’re not that old. Those reports were made before they went missing.”

“What?”

He took a seat in front of him before he declared: “It’s the Buffers. And they’re targeting children.”

Washington’s face told him he still had no clue on what Gilbert was talking about. He just repeated: “What?”

“The Buffers. They are actually seeking Skilled children and kidnapping them. I still haven’t figured out what they do to them after, though.”

Washington’s frown only grew. “How can you tell that it’s them?”

Lafayette arched one eyebrow. “You mean you can’t tell?” He sighed and leaned back on his chair. “Judging by the amount of victims and the way it has been executed, it requires a large organization. People, resources. The Buffers have all that. Besides, the only thing the victims have in common is that they’re Skilled, and less than ten years old. What’s terrifying is that these kids have all disappeared within two weeks of each other. They move fast, and yet leave no trace behind. It’s scarily well done.”

“But…” the captain seemed unsure, and almost reluctant to speak the words that were clearly at the tip of his tongue. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a second before giving him back his full attention. “Look son, I hate the Buffers too. I agree that they’re monsters. But we cannot stop looking for suspects just because it sounds likely that they did it.”

“They’re _still_ doing it.”

“Lafayette—”

“It fits their MO for a child that went missing between Friday night and early Saturday on Staten Island. A friend called me, we put this together this weekend with her and Detective Mulligan. It all fits. Please, just read it, sir. Read my annotations.” That part was especially imperative. He had a feeling New York would be different than the other states, mostly because Hanover, the Buffers’ leader, was not staying at the hotel with them like all the other times, for he lived in Westchester and had gone back to his family. “If they do the same they’ve been doing for the past year, they should take another kid about two weeks from now.”

Washington pursed his lips, deep in concentration, and for a moment Gilbert wasn’t sure he had even heard the last thing he’d said. He was reading the file more intently, studying every picture and the tiny notes Gilbert had added. “We have to do something before they do it,” he finally said, resolute.

“We need to at least identify them,” replied Gilbert, placing his elbow on Washington’s desk. “The odds are all those missing children could still be alive somewhere. The priority is getting to them.”

“Not at the expense of another child, though,” said Hercules, who had been standing by the door since God knows when.

“Mulligan is right,” said Washington, standing up. “We have to move quickly. You said we had two weeks?” He licked his lips. “The kid went missing on Friday night, Staten Island. Where exactly were the Buffers that day?”

“They were in the area, actually,” said Gilbert quickly. He had memorized their itinerary ever since he found it. Finding that link hadn’t been, in fact, his merit, but Adrienne’s. She hadn’t looked into their website because she hadn’t considered the possibility of it being done by the organization, but she had suggested that a follower of the group might have done it, since they had been doing a rally on a community center not far from the place in which little Roger went missing. “And two weeks from now, they’ll…”

Washington stopped him. He went to the door of his office, looked around, and then closed it. “We’ll need to be careful, for now. I agree that we have to turn this into an official investigation, but until we have something concrete, I would rather this specific lead, how the Buffers might be doing it, isn’t mentioned to anyone I haven’t approved of first, okay?”

Gilbert agreed easily to that. Most Skilled knew that Buffers’ sympathizers were everywhere, only they were discreet. The last thing they needed was someone being overly defensive and running their mouth, alerting them that they were unto them. They would need people though, if not to think of a plan, but to execute it, and time wasn’t exactly on their side, but they would have to work with what they got. And Gilbert was good at that.

֍

“Is there anything you have to bring to school during this week or next?” asked Alexander during dinner one Thursday, because he had learned his lesson after failing miserably with his first try to bake cupcakes ever and ended up making over sixty to get only twenty-eight that were more than decent. He was testing a new strategy, which was basically asking Philip twice every day to make sure they hadn’t given him any assignments of the sorts.

“Yes!” said the boy, face lighting up with the memory that clearly had been buried deep before his father asked, “I need to bring a PVC pipe, but it’s for Monday, so there’s time.”

“No, there isn’t. Thank God we asked!” Alexander shook his head. “We’ll go tomorrow to get some after school. I don’t want us to forget. Besides, the weekend is for rest, not shopping.”

“Besides, what if there isn’t any available in the store? You may have to wait a day to get it,” added Aaron. “It’s better to go with time.”

“Where do they sell those?” asked Theo, obviously wanting to know if there would be anything interesting for her there.

“There’s a place near the park, not far from here,” said Alexander. “You want to come along?”

She pursed her lips, unsure.

“Isn’t Nathalie’s birthday party tomorrow in the afternoon?” said Aaron, who only knew that because the girl’s mother had explicitly asked him to be there. She was the one Skilled omega parent in Theo’s class, and clearly, she had found in him an ally. It wasn’t much different to him. And the woman was nice enough.

“Oh, you’re right. Sorry dad. I guess I can’t.”

Alexander chuckled with a tender smile. Honestly, to him it was better if she wasn’t going. It meant he only had to be in charge of one kid. “That’s alright, sweetie.”

“Do you think asking was a good idea?” asked Aaron later, long after the kids had fallen asleep.

“Of course! If we hadn’t, I bet you we only would’ve heard of it late on Sunday.”

Aaron bit his bottom lip. “Yeah, but…”

Alexander rolled his eyes. “If we have to ask him every day for a while, I’ll do it. And eventually, he won’t wait for us to ask, because it’ll be normal for him to say right away if he needs to bring something.”

“But are you sure that’s not a… bad strategy?”

“How is it bad? I think it’s brilliant.” Humbleness was never Alexander’s forte. “Stop overthinking it, babe!” He cupped his face in his right hand. “Who cares what other parents think? What matters is that it’s working. We’re not making him more irresponsible nor anything for that. He’s a boy! It’s okay if we ask.”

Aaron leaned into the touch and sighed. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

Aaron rolled his eyes but smiled when Alexander pressed their lips together, and held on to his hips, pulling him closer. He had been calmer, the last couple of days; he was feeling almost good. His back, ankles and knees hurt, sure, but he almost didn’t get dizzy anymore, and his work-load had been reduced considerably. He was almost relaxed. Almost, because he could never _really_ relax, his anxiety wouldn’t let him. But, there were some things that weren’t causing him much trouble lately; even parenting, that sometimes felt like the biggest challenge, was coming easily; there, at the end of March, with his routine growing lighter every day, he felt calm. And if he had to be honest, that calm scared him a little bit.

֍

Gilbert looked around the park at the oblivious civilians that were going on with their days without a clue of what was about to happen, and the palms of his hands tickled with nerves. He didn’t have a good feeling about it all, and hoped they weren’t wrong in their calculations, because in case they were, the consequences could be brutal.

For the last two weeks, they had been working avidly to find something, anything, to solve the case of the missing children. They had started communicating with other states and the list of confirmed cases was only growing, but Angelica still couldn’t get a warrant to investigate any members of the Buffers more closely, although she was doing her best to get one. That lead them there that Friday afternoon, with only few officers installing a very complicated and sophisticated bomb near the place George Hanover would speak, still without a clue on where the children might be, but more than convinced they were watching the kidnappers.

It was a risky operation, but it was their only chance. The group moving along with the tour consisted on around fifty people, and they couldn’t put a detail on everyone. By the less than reliable information they’d collected, all kids had gone missing after conferences that had been near parks, the first about a week after they got to a state, probably to select their victim, and then exactly two weeks later. That Friday would be exactly two weeks later, after a kid went missing on Staten Island. And like clockwork, they were having a rally near the park. All they could hope for was to screw up their abduction of another child. All they could do was buy some time. And a bomb wasn’t precisely anyone’s favorite method, but it was something, and they had some very good officers preparing it. The plan was quite simple, aside from that. They would wait until Hanover was almost done, but before anyone could leave, they would detonate the complicated artifact that they were assured wouldn’t hurt anyone. It would cause one wall, one non-structural wall, to fall, in a place where no one should’ve been around, but close enough to Hanover to cause a big commotion. The point was to make it look like they had been targeted, which hopefully would force them to retreat for the day, maybe fight with the police a little bit, anything that would keep their minds off any children. Adrienne had talked to some of the kids and was discreetly around the shelter that was closest to the park, but with no backup, because she had wanted to keep the location a secret, just in case. She had told Gilbert that, not the address, and he had told Washington, with her permission. The man had agreed, sadly, that it was best nobody else knew. But if she saw anything weird, she ought to tell someone, preferably Gilbert, without missing a beat. Adrienne liked Gilbert’s boss, after he passed the message.

He took a step back and checked the time. There were only a few minutes left before the detonation. He was growing nervous, even though they had told him that from where he was, outside the building, he wouldn’t be able to see a thing. He only had to wait for the people to come out, make sure nobody strayed in a hurry, and…

Suddenly and loudly, he watched in shock as everything went to hell right in front of him. Sophisticated his ass. The bomb shouldn’t have gone off in another four minutes, and he shouldn’t have been able to see the effects from where he was standing, but in that moment he could clearly see how there, right above the park, the external wall of an immense building collapsed towards them, and with it some more rocks. Honestly, he couldn’t tell how much or what it was. He could only see the cloud of smoke and concrete rushing down.

At least four dozen of people would be smashed by the debris and Gilbert didn’t know what to do, but with the screams, no impact came. Because a huge wave made from the water from the nearby fountain was containing the structure, keeping it up high, and that allowed everyone to get out. Then, the wave went down slowly, carefully, getting all the debris down safely, injuring no one. Truly, it was an admirable act, and proof that powerful skills like that not only didn’t always produce dangerous individuals, but they could also help in many ways, ways no one else could. Whoever had done that deserved a medal.

There was one small problem: The person doing that seemed to be a child, and there was no bracelet on his wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally, finally reached what started as the main thing of this story. When I was writing the summary I was like… ‘but, but how do I talk about the kidnapping and stuff when I got like forty pages of totally unrelated drama before?’. Then I kept writing, and those forty pages turned into a hundred. It’s a good thing I didn’t mention it, I guess.


	11. The little hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The law is clear, even if it isn't just.

Registration has been an issue ever since it was first implemented, perhaps even earlier. The Ungifted argued it was necessary, but no Skilled ever agreed. No matter how unobtrusive they said it was, the truth was that such a system was the entrance for systematic discrimination. Once registered, a Skilled would always need to work a little harder to be considered something beyond the color in their wrist, and that was only one side-effect. Another concerning side-effect was the monitoring. Not only they keep track on their pulse, but also on their location. The GPS ingrained on the bracelets had no reason to be, and yet somehow still existed, even after decades of fighting it. The possibility of a mic attached as well remained a myth, but it was still an understandable fear.

The truth was, a registered Skilled was like a parolee for life whose only crime had been to be born.

It had been a small victory when they passed the ban on the testing for the gene without criminal cause in 2004, because before that, most elementary schools and even kindergartens asked for the test’s results before admitting a kid—and most of the time, when the testing for the gene came up positive, the kid wasn’t admitted at the end. All the Ungifted parents tested their newborns, as if drawing blood from a baby out of mostly prejudice was rational. Many jobs still asked for the test through a loophole on the recent legislation, but if a Skilled managed to get to adulthood without getting registered, they wouldn’t fall for something like that.

Maybe if they never had discovered a way to test the gene that only worked when it was actively causing an ability, things would be easier for everyone, since Ungifted could also port the gene without it manifesting anything. But science allowed society to easily classify citizens between those two categories and there was very little that could be done about it. That’s why it had been a little bigger small victory back in the seventies when congress had approved that Skilled children didn’t have to use the metal bracelet but could use one made of paper until they turned sixteen; and when they extended the period to eighteen as long as their behavior had been unimpeachable later in the eighties, it was another.

It meant no GPS, no electric shocks for children. And they had to fight for it. And the truth was, if an officer caught a kid with a paper bracelet jaywalking it would probably earn them the definitive one by the time they were sixteen, because that thing about the bracelet being there as a mere indication was nothing but bullshit. It was a hypocrisy. At the end of the day, most Ungifted thought the bracelets should be locked in place like handcuffs, make their position clear to the authorities at all times, and be able to physically restrain them, _just in case_.

Which meant that during the sixties, back when they monitored both raise and decrease in pulse, the highest cause of death for the Skilled population—including teenagers and children—was a heart attack. Even if the subject was already in the hospital when it happened, there wasn’t much a doctor could do when the minute their heartrate got irregular they were electrocuted, causing permanent and many times deadly damage to the muscle. In its time, it was a victory as well when they adjusted the frame for the electric shocks to just a very sudden, very intense and considerable raise in the pulse.

Heart attacks still were the highest cause of death for the Skilled over thirty.

But even when it was so difficult, parents still hoped their children would be able to keep the paper bracelet until they turned eighteen, which was understandable considering the risk the definitive one meant. However, the youngest one got registered, the smaller was the chance of keeping a clean record for it. That was the main reason Skilled parents never registered their kids before it was required by law. All the other reasons were that the world was just a terrible place, and they ought to enjoy as much as they could without a bracelet on their wrist.

All of that more than justified the anger of the parent of the small boy that had saved them all, uncovering his skill.

The moments right after he put the debris down were a crazy thing. People were shocked, still scared from what had almost happened and in awe that a person had been capable of doing that. But then someone had yelled, claimed that whoever had done it was, in fact, just a kid. A kid that looked panicky, but it wasn’t the sort of panic one gets when it’s about to get smashed by a building.

It was the kind of panic any Skilled felt when they were first outed, and the kid couldn’t have been more than nine. A chill went down Gilbert’s spine as he frantically looked around trying to find something, anything, that could help the kid. But everything was on video, courtesy of the NYPD and their fucked-up operation, and there was no one else close enough that could’ve been responsible for it. The only other Skilled there seemed to be the kid’s father, who had come running near the end of the scene and wore a black bracelet, and unless they shared the same skill, the kid was screwed. Every cop in town was equipped with a lector that could tell them what their skill was, which was codified on their bracelet. And judging by the way his face contorted with anxiety and rage, he couldn’t control the water like his kid did.

By his side, Captain Washington who had ran there right after the explosion, took a deep breath before making his way to the child. “Boy, were you the one that manipulated the water just now?”

He swallowed hard, visibly terrified. “Do I have to answer that? Can I ask for a lawyer? My father is a lawyer. Dad?”

Large hands closed on the child’s shoulders, and he immediately relaxed a little, but his face still showed fear. He took a step back, attaching himself to the man behind him. A man with a black bracelet.

Washington sighed. “I’m sorry, but everything’s in video. I need to take you into custody. Someone from the Register Center is on their way.”

“He just saved a bunch of people,” replied the father, glaring at Washington with barely contained fury.

“Yes, but you’ll understand that in the face of such a display of power, we cannot just let an unregistered individual go.”

“At least a hundred people could’ve died today, if he hadn’t done that, and you’re going to punish him? How could it happen, anyway?” His eyes narrowed as he looked around, noticing the number of officers that had appeared out of nowhere after the explosion. There was even someone recording. It all clicked too fast. “You knew. You knew there was going to be an explosion. Why didn’t you clear the area? How…?! All these people, if they would’ve died, it would’ve been your fault!”

“It is not a punishment,” replied Washington, and Gilbert admired him for his composure. He himself wanted to cry. “It’s simply standard procedure. I am sorry. Our operation went badly, and believe me when I tell you sir, that we appreciate what your son did. But the law is clear.”

“That’s utter bullshit.”

“Hey, sir? I’m detective Lafayette,” he extended his right hand to him, where his bracelet was clearly visible. “I supervised the operation. I am responsible for it. I… I’m sorry. I _know_ there’s no way to make it better. I know you don’t want to hear that there were no other options, even if that’s true. But we truly are sorry.”

The man eyed his wrist and shook the offered hand. “That’s pretty useless at this point.”

“I know.”

“Philip just turned _eight_ , and now…”

Gilbert swallowed down the gasp that wanted to escape his tight throat. He prayed it wasn’t showing on his face. “He has an amazing control of his skill though. At least you can be sure they won’t force him to go to any training camps.”

The father winced. “Hooray.”

Lafayette gave him a sympathetic smile. “We won’t look into it either, no matter how…” he arched his eyebrows pointedly, “ _suspicious_ it is.”

He tilted his chin up defiantly. “I won’t thank you for that. I didn’t do anything illegal.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“The agents of the Register Center are here,” announced Hercules, who had stayed away for as long as he could. It wasn’t surprising that they had arrived so soon. One of their offices was only two blocks from the park, and they always moved fast when black bracelets were involved.

That kid was definitely getting one. An eight-year-old that could create a wave as tall as a building and strong enough to contain the debris like that from the ground? To say it was uncommon and even scary for the Ungifted population was an understatement.

Lafayette noticed the unavoidable and almost didn’t mention it. But he felt like he had to. “Sir, your pulse is…”

“I know, fuck!” he closed his eyes, trying to take deeper breaths. “I know.”

“Let me talk to them,” he asked then softly, subtly pointing at the agents.

The father swallowed and nodded jerkily. “Please…”

Lafayette nodded. “Don’t worry. I got it.” He knew both Hercules and Washington were confused by that exchange, but he could explain them later. His priority was getting the people from the Register Center off the kid’s back, for at least one more afternoon. Maybe he should’ve taken Hercules with him. His palms were tickling and the hair behind his neck was rising, but he needed to look calm. He needed to _be_ calm, to speak with those agents. Those intimidating agents that he couldn’t stand. The people around them, officers and civilians, didn’t seem bothered, which only meant they were clearly Ungifted. Because no Skilled could ever be indifferent. You just couldn’t. They were a constant reminder that even the smaller mistakes had repercussions. But he kept his ground, he was clear and friendly enough to make them think he was on their side. He was a cop after all.

He handled most of it, but he couldn’t fill the paperwork, so he offered to take them to the father, explaining the man was still highly distressed—which wasn’t a lie—and turned hiding how thrilled he was by the fact that the agents simply _stayed behind_ , almost _relaxed._ They _trusted_ him. It was surreal. But he figured that not only he was a cop, he was also the better alternative when the other was a black bracelet. Ungifted really didn’t like black bracelets.

“You need to fill these,” he handed the papers to the father and Washington handed him a pen, “and you have an appointment for tomorrow morning.”

The man sighed but nodded, looking resigned. “We can just go now?”

Gilbert nodded. “As soon as you’re done with that, sir.”

“Hamilton.” He handed him the filled papers. “Alexander Hamilton.”

“Good luck,” said Gilbert, per only goodbye. He tried to give the kid an encouraging smile, but the poor boy still looked terrified, and he wasn’t feeling any better as he made his slow way to the agents. Thankfully they left soon, because Gilbert didn’t know what he would’ve done if he had to do small talk. He watched intently as they drove away, and by the time they were finally out of sight, he was exhausted. Really, he just wanted to go home and sleep for a decade, but they still had work to do.

“Honestly what the fuck happened? I thought the bomb was safe!” he asked as soon as they entered the precinct.

Washington shook his head with a somber look. “Something went wrong while they were installing it. I’m not sure, but the man in charge, someone I trust, said it wasn’t sabotage. At least not from anyone on the force.”

Gilbert exhaled loudly through his nose, sitting down heavily and folding his arms over his chest. He couldn’t believe it. He knew they’d had little time, and that the plan wasn’t perfect, but they needed to be better. Obviously, it was good news if it hadn’t been sabotage, because that would’ve meant there was a mole, but at least sabotage would’ve meant they were working with competent people. Regretfully, he hoped whoever had been working on the bomb hadn’t been too badly hurt. It had been a terrible accident, and maybe it had been completely out of the user’s control. Maybe it had been because of the material or something like that. But their job demanded of them not to make mistakes, not the ones dealing with the bomb, not the ones that constructed it, not the ones that bought the materials for it. It couldn’t happen. When it happened, people got hurt.

“It’s too bad what happened, and we were lucky that kid helped, or many would’ve gotten hurt,” said Washington.

“At least no child was kidnapped,” said Lee.

“We can’t be sure about that. We got distracted too. Someone might have gotten away.”

“They only take two kids every month for a reason. We need to be optimistic and hope that this was their only window of opportunity. Officer Noailles is still in the shelter, isn’t she?”

She was, but Gilbert wasn’t convinced they could relax just yet. It was still Friday. “But what if it wasn’t?” he asked. What if they could just go the following day, or the day after? Nobody wanted to think about that, but they had to. They were cops. It was their job. Hoping one thing didn’t happen wasn’t enough. They needed to be ready for the worst, and act, until proven wrong.

“What’s wrong with training camps?” asked Hercules, who had been lost in thought during most of the conversation. Actually, he’d been quiet the entire time. The one thing he said after the bomb went off was to let them know the agents from the Register Center had arrived.

Gilbert arched his eyebrows. “They just happen to be terrible? Isn’t that common knowledge?”

“No,” said Washington with a frown. “For the Ungifted community, at least, it isn’t. How are they terrible?”

“Well, for starters, kids have to wear blockers all the time, except for the so-called classes, which are just very shitty. Basically, they tell you that you should never use your skill. They don’t train you for that. They train you to be uncomplicated and unproblematic.”

“Well, that sounds…” his face said exactly what he thought that sounded like: incompetence. He had pictured something worse, by the way Lafayette had spoken.

“You have no idea what blockers really feel like, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

Gilbert sighed. “It’s different for every skill, but… look, blockers are like, forcing a disability on someone. You feel… odd, like something is missing, that’s the emotional part. And as for the physical… they almost always, always hurt like hell. And what’s even worse, they don’t _actually_ have to hurt. It’s just that the ones the National Health System uses do. But the ones Skilled prisons designed don’t. Which means that all us Skilled know you’re better off at prison than at a training camp.”

“Now, that sounds like a stretch,” mumbled Angelica, looking a little pale. “Training camps are for _children_ …”

“Yes, but they’re run by Ungifted. Our prisons aren’t. And they actually need external founding, donations and stuff to guarantee those blockers because the state isn’t paying for them. Apparently, not being in constant pain is a luxury.”

“For criminals, I mean…”

“You’re trying to rationalize this, but believe it or not, it isn’t even about the money. They cost almost the same. The movement for Skilled rights has been arguing about it for years, and the department of Health has never answered satisfactorily. That is in part one of the reasons the bill that forbade holding Skilled on Ungifted prisons got passed on the first place.”

Gilbert knew nobody liked hearing that sort of thing. Especially them, that worked inside the system that tried so hard to hurt some people. But somebody had to tell them. They needed to know. And he was good at saying the things nobody else wanted to say. He had the stomach for it, for the looks and the gasps and the people trying to justify what they didn’t want to understand, what they couldn’t _bear_ to understand. He had patience, and he believed that people could change. He believed that inaction didn’t necessarily come from a place of disinterest, but of ignorance. It wasn’t that they were indifferent to others’ pain because they didn’t care, but more like they just weren’t aware of it. Then again, many deliberately chose to ignore it. They closed their eyes and ears because it was easier to assume they were somewhat exaggerating. But with a little push, once forced to face the truth, many would do the right thing. Gilbert wanted to believe that.

That was why, already parked outside Gilbert’s place but before leaving the car, he melted when he heard:

“I swear each time I learn more about how life is for people like you, I…” Hercules shook his head, “I swear, my heart breaks. I can’t handle it, because I don’t know how to make it better.”

Gilbert smiled. He hadn’t loosened his seatbelt yet and he didn’t think of doing it; he just managed to stretch and drop a kiss on his partner’s lips. “You don’t have to,” he muttered as they separated, trying to project all the warmness he felt inside through his eyes.

“But I want to!” replied Hercules, probably ignoring Gilbert’s fondness on purpose. He looked conflicted.

“You do a lot just by being you.” He got rid of the seatbelt and awkwardly passed over the stick to sit on his lap, placing his hands on his shoulders for balance. “Just watching you work, treating everyone the same way makes me feel hope for the world.”

“I shouldn’t get a reward just for not being horrible, Gil.”

Gilbert hummed, cupping Hercules’s neck with one hand and running the other down his chest. “Maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you should. I don’t know. I like encouraging those that do the right thing. Just because everyone should doesn’t mean it’s not good when someone does it. Besides, it’s not about you. It’s about me. You make me happy.” He rolled his hips, grinning wickedly. “And I would like to reward you for that, detective Mulligan. Will you let me reward you?”

Hercules was sure that nobody would’ve been able to refuse such a thing in his position, so he didn’t feel guilty at all.

֍

Accountability or responsibility can be tough words. Necessary, but tough nevertheless. They can easily be mistaken with the subject of fault or guilt, especially when one is dealing with minors. Minors, most of the time, cannot be held accountable for their actions. Not in the way adults are, and that is okay. Because behind a minor, there should be a responsible adult. It is true that minors are individuals with a conscience and mind of their own, but many of the things they do or say can be a direct derivative, the result of what has already been said or done by the adults in the minor’s life. Even when they aren’t, it is the adult’s responsibility to profess some sort of control over them, be it for the minor’s safety, or society’s.

When there are two responsible adults in a minor’s life, what that minor does can many times be an issue of conflict for the adults. It is, after all, a human being, whose education and development depends on them, and if they aren’t completely attuned, many things can go wrong.

But sometimes, things go wrong anyway. Sometimes accidents happen. Sometimes people make mistakes. And blaming each other for such things doesn’t lead anywhere, beyond anger and suffering and distrust. It doesn’t help the minor and it doesn’t make either of the adults feel better.

Aaron and Alexander had discussed such things many years ago, back when they were simply two friends in undergrad growing fascinated with each other every passing minute. They discussed many things, around drinks and snacks and fluffy pillows behind orange curtains— ‘ _How can you sleep in the morning with those?_ ’, had asked Alexander the first time he visited Aaron’s dorm—and to this day, they still talked about those things. They had discussed it again, when they got married and again when they decided to have children, and then every single time one of their kids got in trouble, they remembered it. They were a team. And sometimes bad things happened, and it didn’t matter whose fault it was. Sometimes it did. Sometimes that was a thing worth arguing about, when bad things could’ve been avoided, but only if the conversation could then keep the experience from repeating in the future.

When Alexander arrived at their house with an inconsolable Philip, all Aaron could think about was comforting them both. Even after he understood what had happened, when he heard the extent of the situation, he wasn’t angry at Alexander. He was angry alright, but at the world. At the world and at the system and at God. But not at his family. Never at his family, not over something like that.

“He went out while I was paying,” explained Alexander, while they were alone in the kitchen, eyes still watery and voice wobbly, “which he knows he can’t do, but…” he shook his head, “he heard the commotion, whereas I didn’t. If he would’ve told me, I could’ve done something, not him!”

Aaron threw his head back and sighed. “If your pulse rose too much, it would’ve been disastrous. It’s a good thing you didn’t notice.” He could’ve contained the debris just like Philip, but if his bracelet shocked him, he would’ve lost control of it and people would’ve gotten hurt anyway. “I guess this was the… best, that could’ve happened, really. Honestly, it’s a miracle they didn’t put a blocker on him until our appointment.”

Alexander shook his head. “Not a miracle. It was the detective, detective Lafayette. He talked to them.”

“Oh. Lafayette? I think I know him, from the Lewis case.”

“He has a blue bracelet.”

Aaron hummed affirmatively. “That’s him, then.” It was poor comfort, but it was something. He understood that what Philip had done had been necessary, and he wouldn’t blame his little hero for not thinking of the consequences. He saved a lot of people. It wasn’t fair that he would be punished for that, but that was the world they lived in and they had decided to try and make the best of it a long time ago. And that they would, somehow. They would. He just had to believe it. Decree it.

It was an exhausting day, that Friday. Philip didn’t leave his room, not even for dinner, and his parents didn’t push him. Theo was scared, too, and they couldn’t blame her. They just wished there was anything they could do to reassure them. Anything they could say that would appease the turmoil in their minds. But they couldn’t when they were feeling the exact same way. Ignoring reality would do no good. They couldn’t just say that nothing bad would happen, because they all knew bad things _would_ happen. They would be strong enough to endure it, sure, but that’s not what the children wanted to listen. That’s not what any of them wanted to listen, not even on the phone, by the time night fell, but that was all the comfort their friends could offer.

“ _I can’t believe it, man. When is he getting it?_ ” was all Laurens could really say, not wanting to be tactless but knowing that whatever he said would be wrong.

Alexander sighed, leaning against his desk and rolling his neck on his shoulders. Everything hurt, and he hadn’t done a thing. Maybe that was why it hurt so much. “We have to go to the Register Center tomorrow morning,” he said.

Laurens whistled. Of course, the Register Center still opened on Saturdays. They were considered as important as the ER. “ _Hey, at least is going to be one made of paper._ ”

Alexander sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, at least… fuck, Laurens, I don’t know what to do. I swear I want to take the next flight to Puerto Rico, get a boat and, I don’t know, stay to live off shore.”

“ _I’m sorry, man._ ”

“I know. Thanks. How’s Fanny doing?”

“ _She’s okay. Do you want us to go visit you tomorrow, or Sunday?_ ”

“That could be nice, yeah, whenever it’s better for you guys,” he cleared his throat. “Or maybe Sunday. Sunday might be better.”

Philip adored Fanny, and Alexander believed it would do him good having another kid telling him about it, but he also was a little selfish. He knew the morning would be exhausting, and then, then he would like to lock his family inside their house and just exist together.

“ _Of course, man. Sunday then._ ”

Once the call was over, Alexander went back to bed. Judging by the time, Aaron should’ve been sleeping by then, but he wasn’t surprised when he found him still sitting. He wasn’t even pretending to look at his phone or read a book; he was simply staring at the wall, face tainted with worry.

“Hey babe, why don’t you try to get some sleep? We have to go out early tomorrow.”

Aaron bit his bottom lip, and when his eyes met Alexander’s, it was as if he was speaking all his fears out loud. “I can’t sleep. I can’t…” he shook his head, “I can’t stop thinking and I…”

“Hey, hey, that’s okay. I’m here, baby, I’m here.” He climbed on the bed and crawled until he was kneeling by his mate’s side, cradling his head and pressing it against his chest. “I’m here. We’re going to be okay, honey, I promise. We’re all going to be okay.”

Aaron had been incredibly composed the entire afternoon, first comforting Philip and later comforting Alexander, but once he’d been alone, he’d collapsed. He was exhausted and terrified and _angry_ , but Alexander’s arms around him, Alexander’s heartbeat, Alexander’s scent, it was all soothing and wonderful. It wasn’t enough. Nothing would be enough, not for a while. But he was able to fall asleep eventually.

He just wished he didn’t have to wake up the next day.

The Register Center was a somber building. The Ungifted that worked there—all the workers were Ungifted—always looked either apathic, annoyed or upset. There were no smiles in that building. Nobody smiled. Not the workers, and certainly not those that had to be there for an appointment. The offices were sterile and impersonal, even when they were designed to treat children, and being there with little poor Philip was a literal nightmare. Sally and her wife were watching Theo and were waiting for them at home, but that was poor comfort. In a few years, she would have to be there anyway. The ride there and back was like no other trip they’d ever done. No radio, no conversation, no laughter. Only a shivering pale tense child sitting in the back, with two shivering pale tense adults in the front. The one difference on the trip back home was that the child in the back was then wearing a black paper bracelet on his right hand.

Aaron wanted to cry, but he refused to. He refused to cry in front of the agents at the Register Center, glaring at them for the way they behaved, for their inexistent empathy, for their treatment towards a child that was obviously scared and in the verge of tears all the while they examined him. Not even for the blood test they tried to be kind. Aaron had to hold Alexander tight and whisper to him to stay put to keep him from doing something to the nurse that looked like she was trying to make it harder for him, brusque and uncaring. He knew things would only get worse from there. And maybe it was best if Philip realized it right away, but that didn’t make it more bearable. He felt like a failure, not being able to protect his boy. The only thing keeping him from falling down the edge was Alexander. Not only his presence, but the fact that he knew Alexander had only ever done his best. There was nothing Alexander’s mind _couldn’t_ do, and if Philip still had been discovered, under his supervision, then there had been nothing for Aaron to do. Even if he’d been there, he wouldn’t have been able to do a thing, because there had been too many spectators. It was a truth hard to swallow, that there had been no other options, but it was also disturbingly comforting, to that part of him that was screaming failure.

It was that part of him the one that didn’t want any of their friends around. He didn’t even want his sister near. All he wanted was to hold his little family as tight as he could and never let go; keep them far away from that horrible world that only wanted to hurt them. But he couldn’t do that. And for that, he tried to look as collected and calm as he could on Sunday, when sympathetic smiles started filling his living room. He knew all of them understood. He knew all they wanted was to be there for them, and to help. But he couldn’t help wanting to be alone. He couldn’t.

What he could do was look into his son’s eyes, realize how much he needed it, and allow it while giving his best performance of a grateful host. He was a little grateful, really, when he saw Philip smile genuinely for the first time since Friday when he saw the young girl on the doorstep that hurried to give him a hug.

“Hey, you look good!” said Fanny, grinning widely. She had been tense when Aaron had opened the door, pressed between John and Bell, but she had rushed to Philip’s side in an instant. Aaron wanted nothing more than to thank her a thousand times.

Philip bit his bottom lip. “You think so?”

She hummed. “Black looks really good on you, and it matches whatever clothes you’re wearing. That is such a perk. Like, I literally cannot wear some colors, like pink. It clashes with this thing.”

Philip chuckled. “You know what? I never thought of that. My parents certainly never had that problem.”

“Yeah, neither do Bell or John. They have it easy.”

It loosened a little the knot in Aaron’s stomach, listening to their conversation, but he still felt like a robot, moving on autopilot. He went to the kitchen with the excuse of getting everyone coffee just so he could drop the act for a little while.

When he heard the door being opened behind him, he almost cussed. Almost. But something soft brush against his mind in that odd, strange way that mind-readers can do and he relaxed noticeably. He wouldn’t fall apart in front of his family, wouldn’t fall in front of most of his friends, but he never tried to hide things from James. He saw no point in it. It was easy to tell himself he couldn’t help it, and he embraced the support like he rarely ever did.

“How are you?” asked James softly.

Aaron shrugged, eyes fixed on the mugs he was collecting to keep himself busy. That way he trembled less. “It’s only been a day. He doesn’t have a tracker on, and he can take it off at home. But tomorrow he’s going to school, and,” he swallowed, “I’m scared. He went to the supermarket with Alexander this morning and a… a horrible woman glared at them and whispered mean things that luckily Philip didn’t hear. I’m so, so worried.”

“I told Patsy to keep an eye out tomorrow, to have his back. She told me we didn’t need to ask.”

“Thank you.”

“Philip is a charming kid, and he’s not the only one with a bracelet on his class.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Breathe, Aaron. Breathe.”

Aaron swallowed hard, painfully aware that almost no air was reaching his lungs. He counted until three. Then again. And again. He nodded. “Three is a good number, right?”

James frowned and went to stand even closer to him, a hand delicately posing over his elbow. “Are you not sure? About…?”

“I am. I am sure, I just…” he tightened his lips in a thin line before giving up on the subject. He shook his head and then pointed at the door with a hand. “Let’s go back there, okay?”

James gave him his most understanding smile and kept all his questions to himself. There would be time for them, eventually.

The conversation in the living room was a lot more diverse and vivid, with several different conversations at the same time.

“You’re seeing Habsburg again? The candidature is a serious thing, then?” was saying Alexander, engrossed in a political talk with Thomas, who was nodding along.

“Yeah. His brother moved here and all. I know there are some radical stuff in his twitter account, but he’s been careful in the last two years. He’s toned it down, and a lot of people support him now. Besides, merely out of principles I think all of us should vote for him.”

“For once, I agree with you,” declared Alexander. “I’d rather it was someone else, but a _Skilled_ someone else. Between him and an Ungifted, I’ll pick him.”

“That logic is dangerous,” warned Aaron. “There are bad people in all groups. I too wish we had a congressman, but that can’t be the sole reason to choose him.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Of course not. But that’s why I’m working with him. I know the guy. I can make sure that—”

“Wait a minute,” said Laurens, interrupting them loudly, with a distracted air. He wasn’t looking at them; he was staring at Fanny, with a concerned frown. “Your friend went missing?”

“Yeah, but he’s been running from Foster Care for a while now. It’s not like I can go to the cops.”

“But when did this happen?” asked Alexander, leaning forward in his seat and giving her his whole attention.

“Friday,” said Laurens, quickly catching up on what his friend was thinking. “It was probably on Friday, right?”

“Well, yeah. I went to see him early on Saturday and he was long gone.”

“How can you know he didn’t just leave on a hurry? Maybe someone called child services and he had to run.”

“No,” she shook her head, “he wouldn’t have left without this.” She grabbed a chain from her pocket. “It’s always around his neck.”

“You’re thinking it’s related to the cops’ operation,” guessed Thomas, eyeing Hamilton intently. “What did they tell you about it?”

“Not much, obviously. But it sounded important. Aaron, you said you knew that detective from the Lewis case. Why don’t you go tomorrow to tell them about this kid, just in case?”

“Of course. Fanny, what else can you tell me about your friend?”

She could tell them a lot of things, actually. Probably a result of living constantly worried, checking her surroundings and evaluating the people around her. Maybe Aaron would’ve been more saddened if he hadn’t been so focused on writing down everything she said. It was good, focusing on something. So many emotions had consumed his weekend and he was exhausted of feeling.

He knew it was wrong, ungrateful of him, but he was immensely relieved once everyone left. His heart fell soon, thinking of how good it had been for Philip, and what awaited him the next day. He was afraid of asking, afraid of saying anything that could make things worse, but his husband wasn’t as apprehensive as he was. As soon as he could, Alexander pulled Philip into a tight hug and muttered: “Hey. How are you feeling?”

Philip wrapped his arms around his father’s neck rather tightly but released him for the sake of conversation. His brow furrowed while he thought his answer. “I’m fine,” he finally said, decidedly.

Alexander wasn’t ready to believe him though. He made a face and said: “Philip…”

“Fanny told me she had to wear one sooner too, you know?”

“Really?” asked Aaron, who had been standing nearby.

Philip turned to look at him, then at Alexander, then hummed and nodded. “And sure, she didn’t have it easy because she was alone, but I’m not. I’m not alone, so I’m not worried.” He grabbed Alexander’s hand with a timid smile, and then Aaron’s, his face lighting up little by little. “I’m not alone. I have you guys. And Patsy and Eddie and Steph. I’m going to be fine. So please, you can stop worrying too. I mean, not entirely,” he giggled shortly, “I know you can’t do that, but, about school? I think I’m going to be fine.”

Aaron had promised himself he wouldn’t cry in front of Philip. He had promised himself he would be strong, and he would be there to support him and comfort him and never show how upset he was by everything. But, as he broke that promise right then, and letting his son and his husband comfort him for once, wrapping their arms around him and murmuring sweet nothings to him, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Maybe it was okay to break some promises. It was okay to be vulnerable, even in front of those that needed to know you were strong. Because vulnerability isn’t a bad thing. Being affected by bad things isn’t something that should be kept hidden from those that love you the most. It’s only natural, and healthy, and Aaron had never felt so lucky, even in the middle of all that adversity.

֍

Visiting the Hamilton-Burr that Sunday had been exhausting, but that didn’t come as a surprise. When Thomas heard what had happened he couldn’t believe it. He didn’t think he’d ever been as mad about something that didn’t directly affect him. He almost set fire to his own desk. He had managed to calm down after some effort, way too aware of the bracelet on his wrist that had been about to shock him if he didn’t which wasn’t exactly helpful, but even after he’d calmed, his thoughts had been distraught, his limbs tense and stiff, his fingertips burning.

Sitting in the living room of a house he knew as well as his own, it had been hard to focus on anything at first. He saw his daughters trying to play with the kids that were practically their siblings and his heart ached and roared in fury. He loved Philip, and he didn’t love him only because he was the son of his friends. He loved him because he was a good kid. People used ‘good’ too freely nowadays, but not Thomas. It was hard for him, to considerate anyone good. People often were too selfish or too righteous or too passive to be truly good. But not Philip Hamilton. Philip was kind and sweet and caring. He was eight-years-old, and he had saved a bunch of strangers just because he could. He was sure the kid hadn’t questioned if maybe someone else could do it or what would happen to him if he did, he just acted because if he didn’t, people could get hurt. He only had been able to sit back and try to talk about whatever after he saw him smile. Then, once he had checked the kid was more or less alright, he had been able to turn his attention to the parents; to his friends. By then Aaron had vanished, and Thomas knew all too well what that meant. He didn’t have to struggle to imagine how they were thinking, and maybe that was what made it worse. But Alexander had still been there, tense and sad but trying to be the same annoying bastard they all knew and, arguably, loved.

Hell, Thomas couldn’t stand the man sometimes, but in that moment all he could think of was trying to distract him and give him at least an hour of peace, where he could step outside of the world that was threatening with ruining what he treasured the most. Yes, he couldn’t stand the man sometimes, but to those close to him he would always admit he admired him. Alexander Hamilton was one of the strongest people he knew, and he couldn’t think of anyone worthier of Aaron, whom Thomas considered his best friend. He was, outside of his family, the most important person in his life, and he would always trust him with it. To think of them in pain, to think of them going through what they were going through, still made his pulse jump.

“How was Aaron doing? Did you talk while you were in the kitchen?” he asked later that night, after the girls had all fallen asleep.

James sighed. “He’s scared, of course. People are so mean, you know, and Philip is… God, Philip is so small. How could anyone think badly of him? He’s on second grade! He’s just a sweet little boy!”

Thomas clicked his tongue. “Ungifted have no criteria sometimes, that’s the problem.”

“Yeah. I just hope this doesn’t affect the baby. That’s the last thing they need. And they don’t deserve it.”

“No, they don’t.” He sighed. “But they’re going to be alright. They’re strong. And stubborn.”

“Yeah, they are… although, I think Aaron is questioning everything right now. Even that.”

“You mean the baby? But they decided to do it like three years ago!”

“I just think that it’s been too much, everything lately. And you know what Aaron is like…” he bit his bottom lip, “there are so many things to worry about, with a child.”

“Nothing they can’t handle.”

“Don’t underestimate their issues, besides… there’s the thing about… you know.”

Thomas stared at him with a frown, expecting James to tell him without a sound, but James wasn’t sure he could do it. There were many things he wanted to tell him, and if he opened the gate, he wasn’t sure he could control what would come out. It was safer to try and form the words out loud.

“Thomas, with all your talk about the Ungifted being bad, I believe you’re hurting Mary. She suspects she is one, you know. And she’s scared you’ll think less of her for that.”

Thomas paled. “What? She, she told you that?”

“No. Whenever she gets those thoughts and I’m around she starts summarizing movies or reciting song lyrics in her head. You need to stop.”

“But I would never…! She must know that—”

“No, she must not, Thomas, she is five,” James interrupted him, crossing his arms on top of his chest. He watched his mate for a moment, sternly, blocked out the stress, regret, and horror that was pouring out of his mind, and took a deep breath. That was the reaction he had expected from the man he loved, but for a while, he’d been afraid of what would happen if he didn’t get it. It was relieving, even though it shouldn’t be. Thomas really hadn’t changed one bit. The times had. He opened his arms and said: “Come here.”

Thomas went, like always, to the one place in the world where he felt truly safe.

֍

“Who was that?” asked Alexander from the bed when Aaron came back into the room. He had gotten a call right as he finished brushing his teeth and had stayed talking in the bathroom.

“Stephen’s mother, Helena,” said Aaron. “Steph told her what happened, so she wanted to know how we were doing.”

Alexander nodded. “That’s nice of her. What did you tell her?”

Aaron shrugged one shoulder. “I said Philip is doing okay. That we aren’t.”

“I mean, we are doing a little better now.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes and nodded at the paper Alexander was still holding. “What’s that?”

“Work stuff. Do you want to read the case again and help me? Or do you want to talk about all those things you’re not talking about?”

Aaron hummed, pretending to think it over, and then extended a hand. “Give me that.”

Alexander chuckled and handed him the rest of the file. “It’s more boring than difficult. Can you read the report out loud? If I do it myself I just might fall asleep.”

Aaron did, and they worked on it well into the night. It was like that, when Alexander focused on his work, and Aaron was a great procrastinator that would choose helping his husband with his work over discussing the things that were bothering him anytime. Besides, it was comforting, figuring out a way to help other people, other Skilled, from the comfort of their bed. Their jobs were pretty similar, but their perspective was fundamentally different, and Alexander had many liberties that Aaron didn’t, working in a private law firm instead. Aaron had chosen his path, and people said it was obvious he would replace Bentham as the district attorney once the man retired—if he ever did—, but he took all the chances he got at participating on the other side. And it was a completely different experience, saving someone instead of condemning them. Normally Aaron had no sympathy for the people he was trying to put in jail, but there had been exceptions he’d wished had hired someone like Alexander to defend them. He couldn’t recommend him, of course. Since they married before taking the bar, they had never officially been on opposite sides on a trial, but that was a good thing. They were the first person they asked for their opinion; Aaron didn’t think he’d ever done an opening statement without asking for Alexander’s opinion and corrections before. Still, once they were done revising Alexander’s case and turned off the lights, it was time to address the important things they had avoided.

“So I’ll go to the 1-6 tomorrow, to tell them about Fanny’s friend. He’s a special victim, after all,” muttered Aaron.

“They probably don’t know Philip is your kid.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure to tell them right away.” He licked his lips. “More important… do you honestly believe it’s related? Fanny’s friend, and the cops’ operation?”

“The one that went badly and outed our son? Yes, I believe the universe is funny like that. It wants to mess with us. It’s got to be related.”

“Okay.” Aaron agreed. Some may think it was a narcissistic or overly pessimistic way of thinking, but most of the time, it was accurate. Besides, after the weekend they had, he thought he had the right to be narcissistic. Or maybe it was just that he had crossed one line and now felt comfortable crossing them all, but he didn’t think so. He sank into his husband’s arms and decided to push all those thoughts away while he focused on his husband’s scent and heat surrounding him. Everything was still a mess, but he still felt rather lucky, all things considered. His son was a hero, and he couldn’t wish for a better family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Life's about to get crazy so I'm not sure I'll be able to keep going with the schedule--you may not have noticed, but I used to have these chapters ready by Thursday and I would upload them as early as I could on Friday, and now I'm barely finishing them to post them late at night! So, if I happen to be late next week, it's all because of school, but I'll do my best to balance both things and keep the updates coming!


	12. Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The detectives get some help. The parents may need some, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to love physics, but I hate electromagnetism. I hate studying. When you don't know what to do with your life, you should take a step back and really think about it, not... rush into whatever sounds best. Because you'll probably regret it.
> 
> I know I do.
> 
> Sorry for the delay.

Maybe people should stop saying that children are “the future”, because there are many out there who don’t seem to realize what it actually means. It shouldn’t be so hard to get it, and yet, they act as if they either don’t care or they can just leave the future for today’s children to fix. They never seem to acknowledge that by any harm one inflicts to these children, the future turns a little darker. A lot darker, when the damage is important, and what damage isn’t? One could say that all damage is important when it comes to children, but they’re also remarkably resilient, which is why one can still hope that these already quite broken children will know how to fix this mess of a world they’re inheriting. But that in itself is an act of violence. Even hoping for the best is violent because it means putting an enormous pressure on shoulders that should be free to climb as high as they possibly can, but instead have incompetent and indifferent people, loved ones and politicians and corporations pulling them down.

When Aaron first got pregnant, Alexander had said he refused to contribute to that. He had said that because of the little thing growing inside of his mate, he would make everything in his power to change things for the better. And he had tried. He tried every day. Aaron saw it and loved him for it, and he as well tried to do as much good as he could. But it wasn’t easy. Most people didn’t like changes, and institutions liked it even less. But without changes, the world would only get worse. Thinking and talking about what was wrong was a start, but people needed to act about it too to make any real progress.

Aaron knew it, but he was a little bit of a coward. He knew it was a selfish way of thinking but acting could have consequences before it brought any good, and it was hard enough to keep his family safe without actively trying to get in trouble. So, he mostly kept to himself, did his job to the top of his abilities, and hoped other people would do something soon so he could support them as discreetly and safely as possible.

However, there were certain circumstances in which even he would dare to act, for one reason or another. Maybe it had been Fanny’s face as she talked about it, or that he didn’t want Alexander anywhere near a police precinct, or that the situation was so awful he wanted to do something.

Or maybe it was simply that he was angry and he wanted to yell at the people he considered responsible for the new accessory in his son’s wrist.

Either way, the point was that on Monday morning he called Fersen to let him know he had some very important things to do and would be late. He hadn’t been to that police precinct many times, but he knew the people in it. He had gone over detectives Lafayette and Mulligan’s statements countless of times, had met the captain, and he had worked closely with their ADA, so much that he may even consider her a friend. He knew they would listen to him with more attention than a stranger. And he hoped the disaster from Friday would hurt them a little more because of that, too.

He wasn’t expecting to see Angelica head first into the building, smiling at him amicably and openly. Another day, her expression would’ve prompted a smile of his own. But then it only filled him with more anger.

“Aaron? It’s good to see you! What are you…?”

“Do you consider your operation from last Friday went well?” he asked coldly, interrupting her.

Captain Washington approached them wearing a deep frown. “Mr. Burr, I hope you’re not here to let us know we’re getting sued.”

“Believe me, I considered it.”

“Aaron?” Detective Lafayette shared a shocked look with Angelica, both struggling to understand without a clue.

Hercules was the first one to connect the dots. “You have kids, right, Aaron?”

“I do,” he nodded. “And you met my oldest this weekend. My husband wasn’t happy.”

“Hamilton,” whispered Lafayette.

Aaron nodded again. “That would be him, yes.” He was tempted to look around and seize the general emotions in the room; realization mixed with something else. He knew he would probably find guilt, but he feared what other things he could find. Pity he could tolerate, but what if he found something far from it? Even the slightest indication of distaste to his husband’s memory would be enough to piss him off, he knew it. He wasn’t at the best place with his emotions right then. Keeping his mask up was a lot harder than usual.

He took a deep breath and was about to say what really had brought him there when another person burst into the room, completely clueless.

“Hey guys!” was saying the ME as he came in, “I tried calling you, but you didn’t…” he stopped talking abruptly as he noticed the faces around, “oh,” he bit his bottom lip, “Aaron, hello! How’s it going? Anne wanted to call you guys after we heard the news, but I wasn’t sure what to say… how’s Philip doing? We sent some extra cookies with Eddie for him.”

“You knew it was Aaron’s kid?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I figured because of the huge wave and all… Alexander was pissed, I heard?” He giggled nervously and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah… and Philip?”

It was always weird, being around a friend’s friends, and the circumstances only made everything weirder. Aaron wanted to talk to William, to tell him all about it. He may even feel comfortable sharing some details with Angelica. But all the detectives around were almost strangers. Strangers he considered responsible for what had happened to his son. He didn’t want to be open to those people. He was there for a different reason, and they didn’t have the time to discuss anything else, even though he wanted to. He wanted to argue and to make them feel bad. He wanted to see that they _knew_ they had done something terrible.

“I want to say he’s traumatized,” he admitted, “so they’ll feel terrible, but he’s okay.”

William laughed. “I assure you, we all felt terrible about it.”

Aaron hummed, narrowing his eyes. It was almost too easy to relax when William was around. He was a good friend, and Aaron was tired. He ignored the detectives just a little longer, aware of how they were all squirming in their feet, uncomfortably. He smirked. “You’re just glad Eddie won’t be the only kid wearing a bracelet on their class.”

“I’ll admit that does make me a little bit happy, but I feel guilty for feeling that way.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, what are you doing here?” He paled. “Are you here to sue?”

He was starting to enjoy how everyone was reaching that conclusion. Still, he shook his head quickly. “No, I am not.”

“If you’re not here to sue us, why are you here?” asked the captain.

“I asked you a question first,” replied Aaron. “Did you succeed on Friday?”

Lafayette narrowed his eyes. “Why do you think that we didn’t?”

“I believe a child went missing around the time of your operation and I have reasons to believe those things might be connected. However, the kid escaped from foster care nine weeks ago, and had been hiding ever since. We can’t just file a report.”

“Are you certain he disappeared on Friday?”

Aaron grimaced. “There’s a window. But on Saturday morning he clearly had been gone for a while, and not willingly.”

“Why is that?”

“That kid had been constantly on the run, and he never left without this,” he showed them a Ziploc bag with what looked like a chain and a small silver ball. “The chain broke, which is weird too.”

“Give it to me,” said Van Ness, and Aaron complied.

“What more can you tell us about the kid?” Detective Lafayette seemed brought back to life with the revelations. He looked around them before locking eyes with his captain, having a silent conversation and nodding once it was over. Then he stared back at Aaron and pointed with his thumb somewhere behind him. “Let’s go to an interview room, okay?”

Aaron nodded.

“He’s ten, and his name is Mitchell…”

He didn’t have as much information as he would’ve liked, but he’d seen investigations thrive with less. He stayed a long time, maybe too long for the kind of text he had sent Fersen, but Aaron didn’t have the time to care. He was too focused to notice the time, and that was okay. His job would survive a day without him there, especially nowadays, that he was taking less and less cases since he would take his leave in less than two months. Mitchell and the other kids didn’t have that kind of luck, and they needed to be fast. They deserved all their time and dedication.

֍

By the end of that Monday, Gilbert was exhausted, but they couldn’t afford even the thought of resting. They needed to find the children, and to stop the Buffers—lock them away for good. ADA Burr’s intel gave them a new theory as to how and when they were acting. Closer to the night, they clearly moved fast. They studied their victims for the entire previous week, and Gilbert didn’t think they did any changes on their plans on Friday. They wouldn’t have wanted to throw away the time they had spent watching little Mitchell, so they took him even after the mess in the park.

It was unnerving and frustrating, that they had failed so miserably, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, his thoughts kept coming back to it.

“Gil?” called Hercules, standing by his desk with his coat on, looking ready to leave. “Hey,” he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed tenderly, “stop doing that.”

Gilbert hoped he wasn’t talking about their job. “Doing what?”

“Blaming yourself.”

Well, Gilbert hadn’t been expecting that, and it got his full attention.

“Yes, we failed, but we did our best. Now we just got to focus on being better.”

“It’s not that simple, Herc.”

“I mean it. You’re distracted, and angry, and I get it. Believe me, I’m angry too. I am. But we got to keep going. We can’t fix the mess from Friday, we can’t undo it. We can only keep working.” He placed a business card with an address scribbled on the back. “I’m going to meet with that guy a few blocks from here, see if he can give me what he promised me. I should be back in an hour or so, but just in case…”

Gilbert nodded. “I’ll be checking on you.”

Hercules smiled. They weren’t alone; the case was too important for anyone to go home. But he crouched and dropped a kiss on Gilbert’s lips anyway.

Gilbert wished he didn’t have to go. Even without looking, without exchanging a single word, Hercules’s presence was soothing. Still, he only entertained that train of thought for a few seconds before he got back to his job, and then got lost on it for most of the night, with the one exception from when he called Hercules to make sure his meeting had gone well.

Nothing bad happened, but nothing good happened, either. And the rest of that night was just as uneventful. He was mostly a zombie by the next morning, when Lee’s annoying voice caught his attention, as he said:

“Mr. Hamilton, hello, are you here to yell at us again, or…?”

“If he wants to yell at us, he’d be in his right,” said Gilbert, interrupting him. Lee had barely been around, completely useless—not much different from everyone else, really—on Friday at the time Hamilton confronted them, and he had no right to talk to the man that way.

“Thank you,” said the man, giving Gilbert a smile that was a tiny bit too smug to be grateful. “Although I’m not here to yell at anyone.”

“That, I’ll admit, is a relief.”

“What can we do for you Mr. Hamilton?”

“Nothing. But I can do something for you.” He handed them a USB key. “You might want to take a look at this.”

Gilbert took it and went to his computer right away and studied the alpha from the corner of his eye, mainly to see if he was planning on staying or not, but then his mind drifted a little. He never had given much thought to what kind of person ADA Burr was mated to, but he found he was surprised by Hamilton. Still, he didn’t have the time to wonder why. The information he was looking at was all he could think of, as soon as he saw it. He watched each picture thoroughly. He didn’t recognize anyone on the first picture, but from the second he could tell that at least the boy was the same. Little Mitchell and his kidnappers were on at least a dozen different pictures, three of those showed the car, as well. They could get an order with that, for sure. They had to, even if the pictures were blurry and showed the kid walking. Willingly or not, that kid was missing. He had been missing for nine weeks, and that picture was recent. They had physical evidence, finally. He expanded one of the pictures and almost cheered out loud when he managed to read the license plate, which he then proceeded to inspect. It was a rented car, which wasn’t surprising, but it was something. He scribbled down all the information and printed the picture which showed the two men more clearly. As soon as he was over with it, Lee snatched the paper off his hands and practically ran off, barely saying where he was going, but that was fine. Lee was good at getting people to give information they shouldn’t give, and Gilbert was practically dead in his feet. He certainly had no business getting behind the wheel.

“How old is your source, Mr. Hamilton?” he asked, leaning back and rubbing his right eye.

Hamilton had narrowed his eyes and was studying him in turn. “Twelve. Why?”

Lafayette nodded. “All the victims have been younger. Skilled, but without bracelets.”

The captain clicked his tongue and glared at him. “We haven’t released that information—”

“And maybe we should!”

Hamilton looked pale, silently watching the exchange. He cleared his throat. “How many victims are you talking about?”

Captain Washington raised a palm. “Mr. Hamilton, we’re not—”

“Over thirty. Two kids every month, in big towns, a different state every month.”

“We can’t prove anything yet,” insisted Washington. “It’s all speculation, detective. Part of an ongoing investigation that we cannot comment to civilians, and you know it. We don’t actually have a number, just possibly the last two, here in New York.”

Gilbert was fuming. For some reason, he wanted to tell Hamilton. He wanted to tell everyone. He knew he couldn’t, because they couldn’t afford to alert the Buffers that they were onto them, but still. He wanted to warn the kids. “We checked with Delaware and Pennsylvania, that’s—”

“That only means six.”

“Six children that almost no one is looking.”

“I got Michigan on the phone,” said Hercules. “Make that eight.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” mumbled Hamilton, covering his mouth with a hand. He looked a little yellow.

Lafayette opened his chair for him. “Please, take a seat. Would you like me to bring you some water?”

Hamilton simply nodded, and as soon as he had the cup within his reach, he downed its content in seconds. Gilbert wished he would be a little more shocked, but by now almost nothing could shock him. He just wished his imagination wasn’t so wide.

“What did you mean?” asked Hamilton softly, staring at him with something very close to desperation in his eyes. He had very expressive eyes. “About them being children almost no one is looking?”

Lafayette grimaced. “You know what I meant. They’re mostly runaways. Orphans. Kids that didn’t want to be found in the first place.” He scratched the back of his head, studying Hamilton’s desolated form. “Your kids are safe.”

“Yeah, for now…” he sighed. “It’s the Buffers, isn’t it? The ones doing this? They’re not going to be satisfied at this slow pace. They’ll get bolder.”

“I know. But we’re going to find them. Soon.” He took a deep breath. “From what we know, they’ve been keeping their schedule for a while now. I don’t know if I want them to be for some kind of ritual, two kids from every state, but it does give us a window of time to get them, this week here, and another one in the next state.”

“Thank you for telling me all this. I know you shouldn’t.”

“We don’t want to release too much information because of the panic it could cause, and because it could alert them, maybe get them to change their MO if they hear we’re onto them, but… I believe these kids deserve a warning, don’t you think?” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “But maybe I’m wrong. They’re just children, and children who probably are going through hell already.”

Hamilton nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, but they’re smart. They get by. They could use the heads-up.” He licked his lips. “However, that is not my decision to make. I’ll keep my mouth shut, detective.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Hey, while Lee is off trying to get those guys’ names, how about we go get some better coffee?” asked Hercules. “I know Gil and I had little to no sleep last night. And you look like you could have some sugar, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Call me Alexander.”

Aaron and Alexander. What an odd couple, with their black bracelets and their dark eyes. They were lawyers, but they weren’t precisely alike. When Aaron had visited the day before, Gilbert had barely been able to notice some of the stress in his shoulders. That was a strange omega, ADA Burr. And Mr. Hamilton? Mr. Hamilton had shown an amazing control on Friday, but now he looked exhausted, almost as exhausted as Gilbert felt. But he had the feeling it wasn’t just the case and the mess with his son. And while they waited to get something to make an arrest, he wanted something else to occupy his mind. Mr. Hamilton’s problems sounded like a good option for that.

“So I know why we two are a mess,” said Hercules, once they were seated, “and I have a vague idea of what is going on with you, but, do you want to talk about it?”

Hamilton made a face that was between annoyed and grateful, but before he could answer, a waiter came to take their orders. Gilbert only wanted coffee, but both Hercules and Hamilton asked for sandwiches also.

“So?” Gilbert asked, trying to give him a sympathetic smile, but Hamilton wasn’t looking at them. He was fidgeting with a napkin, making a paper boat.

“Well, life sucks, basically.”

Hercules snorted. “Yeah, no shit.”

“I’m not good at making plans, you know? I’m, I’m the impulsive one,” he smiled, but there was not a trace of happiness on his features. “But Aaron, he plans everything. And I mean everything, we…” he shook his head, “he always knows what to do, he has… schedules, for everything.”

“I guess it can’t be good when those plans are abruptly changed by fate, isn’t it?”

“It’s the worst. But he can take it. I know he can, I just…” he stopped talking as the waiter appeared with their drinks. “I guess I got used to him having an answer for everything. For him having a backup plan. For him to… fix, everything. But we can’t fix what happened with Philip. And we can’t do anything about… sorry, I don’t want to bore you with—”

“We could use the distraction,” replied Hercules, fast, but his gaze was kind, his expression inviting. “What else? It’s not just your son that’s got you like this, nor the case.”

Hamilton shook his head. “That’s very upsetting, sure. But if I look like a corpse right now that would be…” he rubbed his face with a hand and grabbed his sandwich with the other, “that would be that I don’t know how all this is going to affect the baby. And I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens.”

Gilbert hadn’t forgotten that Aaron was pregnant—that wasn’t precisely possible at this point, and he had only seen the man the day before, with his big belly—but he had forgotten that it was high risk, which had been the main reason he had stepped down when he did, giving Maria Lewis’s case back to Angelica. He felt stupid and selfish for having forgotten, even though he knew it wasn’t weird he had. He knew the man in front of him didn’t care. The man in front of him was an alpha that only had space in his mind for his family. From what he had seen, it was a good family. Not any other kid in Philip’s case would’ve stayed as calm as he did, but Philip only did because he had his father behind him. Because Hamilton was there. Aaron’s mate.

Alexander. He had said they could call him Alexander. And he would.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as earnestly as he could.

“You don’t have to apologize, really. I just… I just really don’t like feeling helpless,” admitted Alexander. “I should be used to it, I know, but I… when it comes to my family, I… I don’t like being helpless.”

Hercules patted him on the back. “I get it, man. And everything’s been out of your control lately, I get it.”

“I’m terrified,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to do, but if I don’t do anything I’m going to go mad!”

“Have you talked to Aaron about it?” asked Gilbert.

Alexander shook his head. “I can’t. I know he’s dealing with his own part in silence and I,” he licked his lips, “I can’t give him mine too.”

“It’s not about that. I’m sure talking about it could be good for you both.”

“Yeah, you don’t know Aaron like I do. That’s unlikely.”

“How are your kids? Are they scared?” Gilbert didn’t have any siblings. He couldn’t really imagine what it would be like, knowing that they had a sibling coming, and that they were in danger. That they were putting their father in danger. Could that be a sensitive subject in the future? It probably was at the time.

“They’re a little worried. They can tell we’re stressed, and Aaron is being… careful. He has to. It shouldn’t happen, but if his bracelet went to give him a class two shot, it would be catastrophic for both of them. If anything happens and they… look, it shouldn’t happen. If Aaron rests, they will be okay. But Aaron has a tendency to overthink so I’m sure he’s stressing anyway and that will only worry him more and he’ll try to stop but he won’t and—”

“Boy, you two seriously need a distraction,” said Gilbert, interrupting him wearing a stunned face. “How about you go home now and cuddle with your pregnant mate? You’re in distress, man. Get your mind off it. Watch a movie together. Better yet, binge watch a show, a fun show, a sitcom. Get some time off. Stay home.”

Hercules nodded. “I agree. You two need to just, exist together, distracted and calm.”

“That actually sounds really appealing,” he grinned weakly. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Gilbert, shaking his head trying to repress an amused little smile. Alexander certainly was an interesting fellow, and he would like to meet with him again, under different circumstances. Probably not right then, because his phone went off with some news that just couldn’t wait. He figured his face gave everything away, but Alexander didn’t question them, he just waved in goodbye, looking a lot calmer than he’d been when they had arrived. That, and the news he had just gotten, were enough to make his shoulders feel lighter.

֍

Aaron had always been prone to overthinking. He stressed easily over things he shouldn’t stress over, and he always needed to plan ahead, everything around him, even the things he knew were out of his control. He knew that most things were out of his control. He knew that no matter how many plans he made, he wouldn’t be able to make everything his way, so he made backup plans for every option, too. And he wasted a lot of time doing that, too.

Still, from time to time, not too often, bad things happened and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing. And when that happened, it was a cathartic experience, in a way, admitting that all that was left to do was to stay put and let things run their course. He would always feel… tired, yet a lot calmer whenever that happened. It was as if turning to a blank page, after he had run out of space and had been pressing the pen too strong on the paper, leaving his arm hurting, his hand cramping, but it was over. He didn’t have to write for a while, at least.

Sending Philip to school with a bracelet on his wrist had been terrifying, but there was nothing he could do about it. There was very little he could do about the little thing growing on inside him, but it was better than nothing. Resting didn’t feel like a waste of time, but like a legitimate task he could feel accomplished for. Still, whenever he rested alone, his mind would drift to darker places. His favorite solution to that was, simply, not resting alone. Staying on the living room with a book or his phone with the distant sound of his children playing, the clicking of Alexander’s fingers on the keyboard, or any of them lying on bed next to him were enough to calm his racing heart.

He didn’t take more cases and simply focused on winning the ones that he already had started, and he felt okay. He felt capable. He wasn’t taking any risks.

And sure, it was stressful, sending Philip to school with a bracelet on his wrist, but after he came home safe and sound, he relaxed a little bit. He felt like he had his life under control, and like the little thing inside of him and he had reached an agreement, an understanding. This theory was only reaffirmed when he started kicking while he watched on the news how they had arrested George Hanover because of the missing children’s case. It wasn’t the first time he did so, but it was almost rhythmic and for such a long time that Aaron interpreted it as a direct response to what he was seeing on TV.

“I know,” he muttered, placing a hand lightly over his belly, “I hate that bad man too.”

He tensed for a second, after he heard giggling behind his back, but then fondness overcame him when a loud gasp followed a third set of footsteps.

“Is he moving?” asked Alexander, kneeling on the bed by his side.

Aaron hummed affirmatively. He had a feeling Alexander had known an arrest was coming, but he had suspected it as well. He had seen the photographs too, but he had tried not to get his hopes high. He decided to focus on the much more appropriate subject for the two kids that were in the room as well and smiled. “He started kicking when they showed Hanover’s picture on TV.”

Alexander chuckled and wrapped him in his arms carefully. “He’s already socially conscious. I’m so proud.”

Theo rolled her eyes. “So it’s definitive that he’s going to be a boy, then?”

Alexander pursed his lips. “Not exactly. But we’re like, almost sure.”

“Using ‘he’ is easier,” said Philip. “Whenever I used to talk about them people thought dad was having twins.”

“Maybe, but what’s easier isn’t necessarily okay.”

“I’m sure he isn’t upset, Theo,” said Aaron, intertwining his fingers with Alexander’s. “But if we’re wrong, we’ll apologize.”

She hummed with incredulity.

“How was your day?” he asked then, changing the subject.

“It was fine, I guess. Philip got into a fight.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Aaron and Alexander shared an alarmed look.

“Philip…”

“I didn’t get into a fight. An older kid was being stupid, I told him so, and he tried to get me in trouble. But Principal Franklin had been nearby the whole time and he said I did nothing wrong.”

“What was the kid saying?”

“It was nothing.”

“Philip.”

“Really, it was nothing. You guys don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

They didn’t insist, not because they believed that they didn’t need to worry, but because Philip clearly was not going to talk about it, not willingly at least, and none of them had any intention of bothering him, not these days. If it had been anything serious, surely, they would’ve gotten a call from the school, and since that didn’t happen, they let it alone. At least for the time Philip was around. But once it was just them, late at night, Aaron just had to discuss it further. His mind was plagued by uncertainty and fear.

“Would it be wrong if I asked James to question Patsy about it?” asked Aaron in a whisper.

Alexander breathed in and out loudly, turning on his side. “It would be… yeah, I think it would be wrong.”

“But I’m worried.”

“Philip said it was nothing.”

“If it hadn’t been important Theo wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“She was just messing with him.”

“Alexander…”

“Baby, we knew he would get some shit from people, but there’s nothing we can do. He handled it. He’s okay. And the principal was on his side.” He fished for his hand on the dark and then brought it to his lips. “I know it sucks. I also would like to know exactly what he said. Maybe pay a visit to his parents. Mess with their roof, I don’t know.”

Aaron snorted a laugh.

“But he doesn’t want us to know, and we should respect that.”

Aaron swallowed hard, grateful for the dark, that covered his glassy eyes. “Okay.” He knew his husband was right, but he hated it. He wanted to do something. Needed to do something. Maybe not asking James, and probably not calling the school either, but he would at least try to pay more attention, maybe ask a little bit more about recess and that sort of thing. And if Theo wanted to add something, listening to her certainly could not be considered a bad thing, right?

֍

It was a good thing he didn’t ask, because James was having a hard time figuring out what was happening with Pasty herself already.

They had all been in the living room doing different things when Mary’s show was interrupted by the news that George Hanover had been arrested for the case of 14 missing children. If Hamilton hadn’t told them some of it already, James feared he could’ve gotten a heart attack. He had silently stopped reading his notes, but the abruptness in which Thomas stopped typing on his computer was unnerving. Lucy was the only one that kept her game going, while Mary stared at the news in confusion and fear, and Patsy did simply with a solemn face, pen and homework forgotten.

“This is good, right? That they caught him?” asked Mary.

“Of course,” said Thomas.

“Hush,” hissed Patsy, still focused on the screen. She looked upset. “What do they mean by that? That the entire organization might be involved? They’re not a cult. Why would they kidnap children? I thought they were a political club.”

“That’s what they say they are,” snarled Thomas, mouth twisting sourly. “But they’re something else. Political, yes. But driven by selfish reasons. They’re not after peace or anything good, really. They’re bad people, all of them.”

“I told you,” sang Mary, with a little smirk, earning a fuming glare from her sister.

Thomas was mostly confused, but he was getting frustrated. He’d been trying his best, watching his every word in consideration for Mary, all the time, for several days now, and for a moment there he worried he had been too harsh in his description of a group that loudly claimed they advocated for Ungifted rights, but Mary looked just fine. Patsy, on the contrary, looked furious and hurt, but she wasn’t saying what was bothering her and Thomas didn’t have a clue. Watching his husband’s face brought no comfort, for it looked like he was none the wiser.

“Patsy, please, tell me what’s wrong?” asked James.

“Nothing is wrong,” she said.

“I bet it’s because of Julia,” said Mary.

“Oh my God, Mary, shut up!”

“Patsy,” said Thomas.

“Can’t you ever shut up? Not everything is about her!”

Mary stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “Yes, it is. You’ve been weird and mean ever since she made you upset!”

“No! Shut up! You’re so annoying, I hate you!”

“Patsy!” Thomas yelled, more staggered than upset, but that didn’t stop the girl from running upstairs, looking furious. He exchanged a look with his husband, projecting in his mind if he knew anything, but James simply shook his head, concern tainting his features. Thomas sighed and stood up. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Ask her about Julia,” said Mary, staring at her own fingers playing with the rug.

“I will.” Of course he would, he was crazy curious about it. He had heard the name a couple of times. The girl had been a new student that year, and she had become a good friend of Patsy right away, but her parents were controlling, and wouldn’t let her go to most parties. Patsy hadn’t even tried to invite her home, and Thomas himself hadn’t felt so comfortable with the idea of her visiting the other girl. Still, they saw each other every day, sat together, and were really good friends. But they never heard a thing about Julia making her upset, until Mary mentioned it.

He knocked on the door and waited until his daughter said he could come in. He had a feeling she would be crying, and so he expected she wouldn’t let him in. He was only wrong about one of those things.

“What was all that, Pats?” he asked softly, after he had entered and closed the door behind him.

Patsy was lying on her bed, face half pressed against her pillow, puffy and red. It broke Thomas’s heart, but she moved her legs to make some space for him, to seat near her. So he did.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” she mumbled, between quiet sobs. “I don’t hate Mary.”

“I know you don’t, sweetie. But you will have to apologize to her later.”

She sniffled loudly, and he offered her a tissue, which she took.

“I will. I promise.” She dried her face and straightened, folding her legs in front of her to face him better, strong and unashamed and brave, as always. “You want to know about Julia.”

“I do,” he admitted, nodding.

“I believe her parents are part of the Buffers.”

“Is it merely speculation? Maybe they only sympathize with them.”

She shook her head. “A little birdie,” she sobbed, “a little birdie told me, that they saw them going into a meeting and all the rallies when they were in New Jersey and here,” she sniffled. “They’re members, I think. I don’t know if Julia knows, though.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

“A squirrel told me they’re bad people, but Julia loves them!”

Thomas swallowed down his words and wrapped his arms around his daughter, tightly. There wasn’t much he could say that would help, but there was a lot that could make the situation worse, and he wasn’t going to risk it. But he could be there for her. He could try to keep her safe, there in his arms, where he would never let anyone harm her, but there wasn’t much else he could do. There wasn’t anything he could say, or at least he couldn’t think of anything, not at the time. It was complicated, because children, they love their parents even when the parents don’t deserve that love, so it’s difficult to make an accurate observation based on that one fact. Animals, however, are good judges of character; they were more than sure by now, after Patsy had been talking to them for around four years. They certainly were trustworthy, better than most humans at reading people. If they said the couple were bad people, if they said they were a part of the Buffers, Thomas would believe it with no hesitation, and he knew Patsy would, too. She just didn’t want to, because what would that say about her friend? The second-grader, was she a victim, an ignorant witness, or a villain in the making?

The thing with bad people is that, many times, they’re not psychopaths devoid of empathy that can’t form any emotional connections. They’re not monsters.

Bad people are people. They have friends and family and hobbies. They go to school and they get jobs and they watch TV shows and movies. They use the internet, they laugh at memes, they listen to music and they share videos in their social media. Most human beings are capable of evil. Hurting others, and believing hurtful things, it’s not particularly difficult. What takes an effort more often is caring enough about strangers to take a look at one’s actions, evaluate if they’re harming anyone, and make the appropriate corrections. Because for most people it can be difficult to think and worry about someone you’ve never met but caring about your loved ones is just too easy. And sometimes, that caring is what turns protectiveness into something dark and twisted. Love and fear mix in order to create an anger that fuels violence. A violence that can be manifested in many ways, and when it is not loud, those that aren’t affected by it choose to ignore it, which is just another act of violence, fueled by nothing more than the little to no interest in strangers that most people lack.

֍

It may sound ridiculous, but sometimes, even bad people aren’t aware that they’re bad.

In the interrogation room, George Hanover looked confused out of his mind, and immensely frustrated.

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. I never met those children. I don’t even like children unless they’re mine!”

“You don’t have to like them. We know you’re targeting Skilled. Where are they?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t do it!”

“No, you had your men do it.”

“No!” He frowned even more, face tainting with disgust. To him, the Buffers were a group of people that met on the weekends and talked about the problems of society. They weren’t out there, kidnapping children. He told the cops so, but they didn’t listen. He had kids. He could never steal other people’s kids. That was barbaric. A fear tactic. And, well, that he could understand was attributed to the group. But he didn’t support those actions. Never did. When he had to step in after his grandfather died, he told everyone that, that some things would change, and he thought they had. It was unsettling, the possibility that they hadn’t after all.

Still, he knew that he was innocent. He didn’t know about the people in his organization, which was distressing, so he didn’t voice that to the cops. He simply asked for his lawyer and trusted him to get him out of there soon. He had to. George was _innocent_.

Not seven hours after they had arrested him, they had to let Hanover go, which must have felt like the ultimate defeat, especially as they saw his wife and kids receive him in the lobby with a huge and tight embrace. The man hugged his sons and carried his baby daughter outside, smiling brightly, without a care in the world, as he walked out a free man.

It felt like he was spitting in the detectives’ faces. He felt strange. Their words and looks would forever be gravened in his mind, he was sure of it. But there were other things that would never leave him. Smiling faces on photographs. Names. Dates. Stories.

There were no grieving parents for the missing kids. If they ever were found, they wouldn’t get a warm embrace like George did. They were all alone, and that had turned them into the perfect victims. But victims to whom? George was innocent.

He was innocent, goddamn it.

Two days later, he went back to the precinct.

“Mr. Hanover?” said Captain Washington, staring at him with the slightest twitch of an eyebrow that could’ve meant anything.

“You were right,” said George, his stomach full of knots. He was terrified, standing in front of that imposing man, so near the room he had spent so many hours in, confused out of his mind.

“Are you here to surrender yourself?” asked the captain with a deep frown.

“No! I wasn’t lying to you. I had nothing to do with it. But the people who are behind it came from my organization. They’re a subgroup, way more radical. And they don’t listen to me. But I can prove that it was them, and I think I know where they’re keeping the children.”

Detectives Mulligan and Lafayette, the ones that had spent seven long hours interrogating him, exchanged a bewildered look.

Behind them, Captain Washington nodded, wearing a thoughtful look. “Okay then,” he said. “Tell us everything. Fast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deleted so much in this chapter! I practically rewrote it today... I'm sorry I couldn't post last week, but life is crazy right now, and I'm super busy with school, but I'll do my best!
> 
> If you feel like yelling at me or asking me anything, come talk to me on Tumblr! I could use some friends... I'm @discretocincel


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